


Unfathomable Distances

by chasingxrabbits



Category: Little Mix (Band), One Direction (Band), Zayn Malik (Musician)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Alternate Universe - Skyrim Fusion, F/M, M/M, Prince Liam, Skyrim AU, Skyrim without magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-10
Updated: 2017-11-10
Packaged: 2019-01-31 11:21:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 49,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12680868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chasingxrabbits/pseuds/chasingxrabbits
Summary: A Skyrim AU where Liam is the reigning prince of Falkreath hold. Zayn is one of the palace guards. When Liam's best friend and Thane to the hold, Louis, contracts a mysterious illness, Liam is left with a choice. Does he leave Falkreath City in search for a cure, and who could (or would) ever accompany him on such a tumultuous journey?





	Unfathomable Distances

**Author's Note:**

> So I've been working on the fic for literally 4 years. It is set in the Skyrim universe with no magic or magical creatures and the title is a play on a quest in Skyrim called "Unfathomable Depths". There is a bit of a gore warning and a warning for animal death. The boys get put through the wringer in this so. Be prepared. (But no one dies)

Age eighteen is sweet in taste. It’s a bite into a crisp apple, or the first signs of spring after a harsh freeze. It’s full of life and love, even if at that age, you don’t have real concepts of the words. Liam knows though. 

 

He’s had the world as far as he can walk in every direction in the palm of his hand since sixteen. He rules Falkreath with the care and grace his father - the king - before him had neglected. As a matter of fact, he’s everything his father wasn’t and more.

 

Where his father was sword and shield, Liam is a firm hand. Where his father was death sentences and dungeon time, Liam is hours working for the kingdom's lesser traveled areas as punishment. His father was judgmental and cruel and Liam tries so hard to not be him.

 

He has everything a boy at eighteen could ever dream of but he is not happy.

 

He stares ruefully into his stone mixing bowl, clutching the grinder tight in his other hand. Tears threaten his eyes as he tries not to think about what he’s doing - about what he does every morning.

 

He always ends up watery-eyed, but he’s yet to let a member of his staff see him cry, and even alone now, on the balcony of his bedroom looking over the city below sprawling at the coming dawn, Liam chokes back the tears that cloud his vision and waver the brave facade he keeps up like a brick wall. 

In front of him is a table of ingredients, something he’s used to - comfortable with, even, and his fingers grab at them with ease. He starts with mint leaves, pressing them hard into the bowl with the pestle as an outlet for his anger. Once they’re reduced to a paste, he stands, carrying the bowl over to the banister of the balcony and plucking a single morning glory flower from the vines that creep up along the archway - just like he had intended when he’d planted them along with about fifty other clay potted plants.

The flower is dropped into the bowl to join the mint and he grinds that down, probably clenching his teeth a little too tight.

‘Lastly’, he thinks, as he sits back at the wooden table, ‘The most temperamental ingredient’. A metal spoon in one hand and a vial in the other, he fills the bowl of the spoon a quarter of the way with snake venom, carefully corking the bottle back up when he’s finished.

Over Liam’s years of using alchemy, he’s come to learn a few things the hard way. For instance, heating the venom to take away its acrid taste, but keeping it from boiling, which would make it less potent. The best temperature is reached by holding the spoon two inches above the flame of a candle for roughly five seconds. He follows that recipe and then adds the venom to the dish.

He mixes it well, standing and then making his way back inside his room with the medicine clutched tightly to his chest. 

Lady Eleanor is patiently waiting outside the door to his room, holding a bowl of porridge. Liam finds her like this every morning. He hands over the mixed ingredients without a word and she takes it, giving him a tight smile and a nod. 

 

When this had first started, she used to ask him, “Do you want to come and see him with me?”

 

Liam had to deny her a total of five times before she got the hint; that he would see Louis when he was good and ready, damn it, and he certainly wasn’t good and ready this morning.

He closes the door tightly as he makes his way back down the hall to the West wing where Louis’ room is and absolutely does not cry. He doesn’t cry.

 

He repeats this routine every morning for three months and all before he’s even dressed for the day.

His own breakfast is brought to him along with a bowl of hot water and a soft rag. The Page doesn’t stay and talk to him this morning, which Liam is very grateful for.

He takes his time eating - picking out the best fruit from the fruit bowl and takes his tea on the balcony, stroking his fingers down a yellow petal on the plant in front of him, his feet propped up on the railing. 

There are horses already pulling massive flat wagons, loaded high with goods coming and going from the castle gate, and Liam watches with only mild interest. 

He stands, pulling on a white, long sleeved shirt as he shivers from the coming autumn weather. He runs his fingers through his hair, watching it curl at the tips again as soon as it’s released, in a huge, polished glass mirror hanging next to his fireplace.

His fingertips brush the cool metal of his thick, gold circlet where it’s laying on the stand in front of him without looking down at it. He’s staring into his own eyes as he slips it onto his head, wondering why all this power can’t solve his problems.

-

The setting sun lights his way through the stain glass windows of the West wing halls, casting the stone floors in an array of colors. Liam walks with conviction, trying not to wince every time he hears a cough or wail of the kingdom’s ill fill the rooms. That is what the West wing is for - the sick and injured.

He’d debated on keeping Louis in one of the royal apartments, but with doctoring hands spread thin around the palace ever since Liam started sending them to poverty stricken parts of kingdom, he’d found it best for Louis to be kept where a nurse could always be by his side. But to make up for it, Liam had given him the biggest room with the largest window and a huge, soft bed with a down comforter, pillows that squish when you rest on them - they might even be nicer than Liam’s. He’s assigned Eleanor to be Louis’ personal nurse. “Get him everything he needs and anything he asks for,” Liam had said to her weeks ago. 

Liam pauses when he gets to the doorway, because he can hear the sound of a rag being wrung into a bowl of water and he knows that Louis isn’t strong enough to do that himself. Peering inside, he sees Lady Eleanor bring the towel up to gently wipe at Louis’ flushed face where he’s lying, wrapped up in a hide blanket for warmth.

Liam purses his lips at the sight because it has admittedly been a couple days since he’s seen Louis and even then, he didn’t look quite so pale. He’s had his people come and inform him of Louis’ wellbeing every single day since he’s been ill, but at heart, he knows it’s not enough.

This is proven by how Louis lights up when he spots Liam, a genuine smile finding his lips - one that Liam is sure is hard to come by these days. It rips Liam in half to see how shocked Louis looks to see him.

 

“Liam,” he breathes, voice raspy and the sharp cough that follows breaks Liam’s heart again.

 

“Hi, Lou,” he greets sadly, not even attempting to hide the way his brows tip up in pity.

 

“Don’t you look at me like that, Liam,” Louis scolds, sitting up a little straighter in bed. Liam notices how the bright blue sparkle has drained from his eyes, leaving them looking greyish at best. Deep purple dips are forming under the sockets. “I’m fine.”

 

Liam laughs dryly, padding over to the side of the bed that Eleanor isn’t occupying. “You don’t look it, love,” Liam admits. 

 

Louis forces a smile this time, looking so different from the sincere one Liam had gotten a glimpse of just seconds ago. He doesn’t bother defending himself this time, knowing that Liam is right.

 

“The fever isn’t going down, Your Grace,” Eleanor says, sounding apologetic, she bows her head in shame. Liam, however, understands that she’s not a miracle worker, and if even he can’t figure out a way to break the this new nightmare of a fever, then she certainly can’t. More than anything, she’s there as a comfort for Louis, and Liam thinks she does her job with an added grace. 

Liam knew immediately when one of his favorite pages showed up at his door to inform him that a strange new illness had begun to spread through the city. Before even a week passed by, Liam was getting word that cities all over the kingdom were seeing strings of it. 

It starts with mild nausea, which evolves into stomach pains and vomiting. The headaches follow, lasting for days as the body temperature rises slowly. The fever itself causes the afflicted to sweat so profusely they become dehydrated. From that point, it's a rapid downward spiral.

Liam was in denial when his best friend and the beloved Thane of Falkreath started to feel ill, but it wasn’t long before Louis was showing every one of the symptoms. 

Liam has to bite his bottom lip to keep from saying something out of line, instead he nods, face suddenly hot. His throat feels tight as it often does when thinking about the situation.

 

“Lady Eleanor, if you wouldn’t mind, I’d like Louis to myself for a while. Why don’t you turn in for the night?” he requests. She stands immediately, setting the rag and bowl of water on the nightstand to be carried off and cleaned by the maids in the morning. She nods, her mousy brown hair falling over her apologetic eyes.

 

“Of course, sir,” she agrees, saying her good night to Louis and then vacating the room. She kindly shuts the door on the way out.  
Louis is looking up at Liam expectantly, like he’s waiting for something. Anything. And Liam can’t handle that.

Louis had been a present to Liam. Liam had finally come of age where he started taking lessons and as a reward, his father had given him a playmate, a friend. Having been an orphaned child, Louis was quick to find comfort in the companionship, just like Liam had and they grew together, learned together. 

They were inseparable. Liam had demanded his father have a bed put directly into Liam’s room for Louis to sleep in so they’d never have to miss a moment together.

When the king died and Liam took the crown, the old Thane resigned. It seemed only fitting to make Louis the personal advisor to the throne, and the new Thane of the kingdom of Falkreath under Liam’s rule.

Had he not known Louis so closely, maybe it would be easier to see him like this. Maybe had he not remembered the way those sad eyes used to sparkle with mischief, or the way his sharp, pixie-like face could light up a room. Maybe had they not spent nights upon nights laying awake in Liam’s bed, telling stories into the early hours of the morning; maybe then, Liam would not constantly be on the verge of throwing things, tears constantly threatening to spill down his cheeks at any second.

But maybe not.

He reaches over, wrapping an arm around Louis’ shoulders to pull him in. He places a meaningful kiss against Louis’ heated temple and holds him close.

 

“I’m going to fix this.”

-

Through the whole next week, Liam follows the routine because routines are safe. There’s not a lot of room for mistake when you stick to the routine that works.

It’s late at night on a Thursday - moon high and casting a shadow under the surrounding mountains as he stands atop his balcony, looking out as the wind sings to him softly, sounding like gentle waves of water this high up. 

He closes his eyes for a moment and a picture flashes through his mind. He remembers the night his father had died suddenly; he was only sixteen years old and entirely not ready to be an adult, let alone the ruler of a whole kingdom. He remembers Louis helping to wipe the tears from his eyes as the previous Thane placed a gold circlet on Liam’s head that felt worlds heavier than it really was.

His fingers tighten at the memory, his chest feeling constricted. 

He has not yet undressed for the night, so it’s not with any delay that he exits his room and heads out into the halls, a new goal in mind. The guard outside his door - his personal guard - Paul, dressed in the kingdom color of green, stops him.

 

“Is everything alright, Your Grace? It’s very late,” he asks standing a little taller from where he was slouched on the wall. Liam can only imagine how boring of a job Night Guard must be. Not much action in these walls to begin with, let alone near midnight. 

 

Liam is well built himself, but his personal guard in particular is huge. There’s no way he wouldn’t be stopped if something looked fishy. Liam’s never been deemed one of the more mischievous royalty, but it’s not too late, he thinks.

 

Liam nods, not wanting Paul to think anything suspicious is going on. “Can’t sleep. I’m just going to take a walk,” he informs, trying to sound like he’s giving an order rather than asking for permission.

 

“Shall I accompany you?” Paul asks, sounding a bit suspicious.

 

Liam shoots him a look, hoping the message is received clearly. “No.”

 

He walks the near-empty halls to the West wing and pauses in the middle of Louis’ doorway. Everything is so quiet in the night that he can hear the struggled breathing of the ill in their rooms.

The room is dimly lit by only a candle in the far corner, but Liam can clearly see how Louis is tucked into bed, fast asleep with a pained look on his face. Liam sucks in a deep breath and releases it with a hard expression, feeling a sudden surge of bravery. He turns on his heel, taking the flight of steps down two at a time to the vacated throne room. He’s been thinking about this since last night - at first only humoring the idea, but it’s come to the point in his mind that this is happening - that this is the only solution.

He pauses once there, looking around quickly, he knows what he has to do. There’s a single guard watching over the room and Liam smiles to himself. He’s built small, lanky in physique with lovely, dark-set features. This is the guard he’d been hoping to find.

 

“Excuse me,” Liam starts and watches as the boy perks up in surprise at the attention, a pair of hazel eyes brush over the circlet under Liam’s curls warily.  
He checks over both shoulders to confirm that Liam is actually speaking to him and when he finds no one, he gives a tight nod.

 

“Your Grace?” he questions. “Can I help you with something?”

 

Liam walks over until he’s standing directly in front of the guard. Really, he’s thinking about how this is going to work, but in the guard’s mind, he probably feels assessed - judged.

 

“Yes, but I need no questions asked, do you understand?” Liam asks firmly, crossing his arms over his chest. The guard nods eagerly, eyes filled with worried question. Liam can’t blame him for anything, but this has to happen - concerned, hazel eyes or not. 

 

“I need you to come to my room tomorrow morning. I’ll let my Page know that you’ll be delivering my breakfast,” Liam informs, turning on his heel and rushing back up the steps. Just before he disappears, he calls out a firm, “Don’t be late.”

 

-

 

Zayn stands in front of Prince Liam’s apartment door, a tray of pancakes in his hands. He’s staring directly ahead at the aged wood like it holds the answers, but he’s still just as confused as he was last night. He feels small in front of it.

The guard to his right, Paul, is Prince Liam’s personal guard, and he’s giving Zayn a hard look.

 

“What did you do?” Paul asks suspiciously. 

 

“Huh?” Zayn responds, not sure what he means. Paul’s eyes narrow intimidatingly. Zayn’s never really had the pleasure of getting to know Paul since he’s always at the prince’s side, but he knows how the other guards talk about him - like he’s terrifying. 

 

Zayn thinks that if they weren’t in this situation right now, Paul could be like a father figure. He looks like one - like he genuinely cares about the prince’s well-being.

 

“How did you gain the prince’s favor?”

 

“I didn’t,” Zayn assures and the rest of his sentence comes out as a question. “The page was just...occupied this morning?”

 

Paul rolls his eyes. “You’re lucky as hell Prince Liam already told me someone different was coming with his breakfast, because had he not, there’s no way I’d let you in there.”

 

Zayn reaches out and knocks against the wood in a haste, flushing. “Yeah, lucky that.”

 

The door opens seemingly by itself and Zayn heads inside, setting the tray down onto a circular table and then shutting it behind himself. The door is so heavy that it takes his whole upper body to close it.

The room is so unlike his own that it’s sets him immediately in awe. He’s so used to have to split a room with two others in the barracks, but this room is a good four times the size of Zayn’s and it’s only meant for one. There’s a four post bed big enough to easily fit three people side by side and it looks so soft and warm, draped with numerous animal pelts and soft, woven blankets.

From the enormously high ceiling hangs a chandelier made out of elk and deer antlers, crossed so intricately and tightly that you can place lit candles inside for light. But the only source of light this morning is the balcony, glass doors open to let in a gentle breeze, and the fireplace, complete with a lovely designed steel frame. A shield - five feet in height at least - hangs above it with Falkreath’s crest - the head of a stag with a pair of strong looking antlers. 

Liam is sitting in a cushy looking lounge chair in the corner by a small bookcase, obviously waiting for Zayn with his legs crossed.

 

“Your Grace,” Zayn addresses, standing awkwardly as he waits for further instruction. The room is intimidating, Paul was intimidating - but the circlet nestled in the prince’s fluffy curls is what runs Zayn a little cold. 

The way it has always worked is that the prince trades the circlet in for a real crown when he becomes a king, and to become a king, the prince must wed. And it can be anyone the prince chooses, but Prince Liam has clearly already chosen Princess Danielle of Morrowind. Already out of line for her own crown since the birth of her brother, the princess has always seemed a little eager for Liam’s hand for Zayn’s liking. And even though there’s been no official engagement, everyone suspects that it’s just around the bend. 

That doesn’t stop the suitors from coming though. Noblemen in fancy, horse-drawn carriages unload their daughters every other week. It would be more often even, but Prince Liam was forced to put a limit on it after he had six show up in a week’s time.

Zayn has never liked the marriage rule, because he looks at Liam now and already sees a king.

Liam stands, rubbing his hands together like he’s worried. He looks tired and worn, the responsibilities of his empire obviously weighing on him. 

 

“Have you slept yet?” Zayn asks, frowning. Prince Liam shakes his head no, hanging his head just a fraction in shame.

 

“I’ve been up all night thinking,” he informs, sitting at the table and gesturing for Zayn to do the same. He pours himself a mug of the hot coffee, clutching it tightly. He offers the pot to Zayn, but Zayn gives a polite, denying smile.

 

“About?” he prompts carefully when the prince doesn’t respond any further.

 

Liam takes in a long breath, shutting his eyes for just a second like he’s erasing the slate in his mind. “My Thane, Louis,” he starts, sounding pained. “He’s sick. You’re aware?”

 

“Yes, your Highness,” Zayn agrees, tipping his head down in respect. “My condolences.”

 

“Thank you. That’s kind. But he’s not just sick,” Liam spits, becoming tenser by the word. His face is scrunched up slightly in an angry kind of sadness. “He’s dying.”

 

Zayn softens, feeling a remorse that he hadn’t held before now. His heart breaks as he sees the prince modestly struggling to hide his pain, but Zayn has always known just how close Prince Liam and Louis are. It’s been this way ever since Zayn was a boy living in the palace. He remembers looking on and wishing that it were him that had become so close to Liam - that he could have been Liam’s childhood friend. Louis obviously had it easy since he’d come to the palace.

 

“And I can’t -” His voice breaks, not allowing him to go on. Liam stands suddenly, throwing the porcelain cup of coffee against the stone wall where it shatters and then instantly bringing his fingers up to pinch at the bridge of his nose. Zayn jumps at the sudden movement, licking his lips nervously because he’s never seen the prince lose his temper before. Not ever. Usually so calm and collected, it’s uncanny for Zayn to see him so stressed.

Liam lets out a shaky breath, moving out to the balcony. Zayn takes the tiniest second to admire the planes of Liam’s back. The way the long-sleeved shirt clings to the lines of muscles, giving a show every time Liam moves. With his body so tensed, Zayn can see nearly every detail. 

The same goes for the tight, soft leather pants the prince is in. They lace up the front and a pair of strong looking boots stop at the knees. He wears something similar every day unless it’s a special occasion, but the outfit looks anything but ordinary on Prince Liam’s built figure.

 

Zayn snaps himself out of it, understanding that this isn’t really the time to be admiring the monarch. It’s just that he’s never been so close to Prince Liam before.

He suddenly gets the feeling that he should follow him, so he gingerly stands too. Zayn has never been up this high before, never seen so much of Falkreath at once and he’s slightly awed by how the rising sun makes the wheat fields look like patches of shining gold - the rivers and creeks like liquid silver. From here you can even see the little town pressed into the base of the mountains - what must be miles and miles away and acres of farmland, full of grazing, long-haired cattle.

His eyes rake over the abundance of plants on the balcony, sitting at the prince’s disposal - many of which Zayn couldn’t name if he tried. 

Liam turns to him, looking more serious than Zayn has ever seen on those features. “And I can’t just stand around anymore.”

 

Zayn nods, but doesn’t even begin to understand. Liam drops his gaze to the stone flooring of the balcony. 

 

“Louis is dying and I can stop it,” Liam explains as his fingers brush against a pot of plump little mushrooms in an array of colors that squish just slightly under Liam’s touch. A genuine smile grows on Liam’s lips. “But I need your help.”

 

Zayn frowns worriedly. “My help? You’re the medical professional. I’m not a doctor, your Highness-” he struggles to get out all of his points at once, but Prince Liam laughs under his breath.

 

“I know that,” he dismisses, sitting himself on the bannister of the balcony, making Zayn very nervous about him falling off. He can see it now "Guard brings Prince Liam his breakfast - pushes him out the window". Zayn shivers at the thought. Liam, however, looks well placed.

 

“Then how exactly do you expect me to help?” he prompts respectfully. 

 

“I need you to take me somewhere.”

 

Zayn’s eyes narrow a fraction, making Liam laugh.

 

“Take you where?” Zayn asks, voice full of hesitation and suspicion. 

 

“You see, I’ve been messing around with medicine, day in and day out and I’m finally this close,” Liam explains, holding his fingers up to show a tiny space between them. “To finding a cure - or at the very least, a medicine that works - but I’m missing just a few things. I need you to take me to get them.”

 

Zayn shakes his head, grimacing. “What are you missing? Perhaps you could send someone a little more...equipped for the job to find it by himself.”

 

“Ah, but that’s the problem. See, I thought about that - I  
do that, but I don’t know exactly what I’m missing. But I do know that it has to have a certain healing quality. I have a few theories to work off of, but nothing solid. That’s why I need to go. And I want you to take me.”

 

Zayn lets out a short breath. “Let me get this straight. You want me to take you out into the wilderness so you can maybe find a missing component for a recipe you’re not completely sure of. And let me guess. No one will know about this but us until you’re already gone.”

 

Liam nods, smiling eagerly. 

 

“So in other words, you want me to kidnap you? Cause mass hysteria?” Zayn tries, scratching at the back of his neck.

 

Liam shrugs carelessly. “Not kidnapping if we don’t get caught on the way out.”

 

Zayn groans a little. “Prince Liam, this is an awful idea. And besides, shouldn’t you take someone a little more - well, fit for the job? Why me?”

 

Liam’s eyes quickly rake over Zayn’s body. “I have the brawns and the sword skill. I need someone that knows the area - someone with survival smarts that can make it on their own out there. I don’t have any of those components because I’ve lived in this damn palace my whole life.”

Zayn pauses, obviously very reluctant. Liam tries a different approach.

He reaches out and grasps Zayn’s hand in his own, forcing their eyes to meet. Zayn tenses at the action, but softens just as quickly.

 

“I’m sorry,” the prince says slowly. He tightens his grip on Zayn’s hand comfortingly. “I don’t even know your name. I’m asking you to risk your life for me, and I don’t even know your name.”

 

Zayn lets a genuine little smile show as his posture softens. This is the prince he knows, not the one that flings coffee cups. This is the prince that can bring a criminal to confess, just by sympathizing with them. “I’m Zayn, your Highness.”

 

Liam nods. “Zayn, I need you to do this for me,” he informs sternly but gently, rubbing his thumb over the skin on Zayn’s hand. Zayn had known since the beginning of this conversation that he’d end up saying yes, there’s no way not to. He couldn’t say no to the prince, and he certainly can’t say no to those pleading brown eyes. He gives a caving sigh.

 

“Do you think you can keep up to me out there?” he asks cheekily, and Liam grins in confirmation.

 

“I think so, yeah,” he agrees, standing and leading Zayn back inside. 

 

Liam picks an apple off of the tray of his now-cold breakfast, stepping over the shattered mug on his way to the bed. It’s then that Zayn sees the clear evidence of Liam’s plan in the corner. There are three small bags and a pile of clothes sitting next to the warm fireplace. 

 

“Okay,” Liam starts. “I want to leave tonight, so get your things ready, but pack lightly. Now, there’s an escape entrance at the very bottom of this tower and it exits through a tunnel. It’s hasn’t been used in years, but it’s still very accessible.

 

“You’re going to meet me in the lower kitchens in the meat room at  
2 am. That’s when the kitchen staff switches shifts and no one will be around. We will only have roughly three minutes before a new shift returns. Here’s the important part - I need you to get me a guard’s uniform - one with a hood and bring it with you. It’ll be much easier to sneak out that way.”

 

Zayn absorbs this with a hard, determined look on his face and gives a nod.

 

“Now go - and take the tray with you. We don't want anyone suspicious,” Liam orders. Zayn stands, collecting the remnants of Liam’s breakfast and vacating the room without another word, all the while thinking about what a terrible idea this is.

 

-

 

Liam is sitting by a candlelit table, running the tip of a quill along a piece of yellowed paper, watching as the black ink turns into script. The letter simply reads, "Louis, I'm going to make this right. You are in charge while I'm gone. Liam" 

He folds it into three and seals it with a drop of red candle wax, pressing the Falkreath symbol into it with a stamp.

He stands and tucks the letter into his shirt. Outside the door is Paul, and he doesn’t stop Liam tonight, which Liam is grateful for. This is going to be hard enough without any guard-related problems. 

He silently makes his way to Louis’ room, simply walking in without knocking because he knows that everyone is asleep. Liam finds his eyes watering instantly as he pads over to sit in Eleanor’s chair. There’s a half-full glass of water next to him and Liam wonders fleetingly if Louis can even keep his liquid down at this point.

Tears begin to cloud his vision as he reaches into his shirt and places the letter on the bedside table. He stands and bends over to press a tight kiss to Louis’ forehead.

 

“I’ll be back,” he promises under his breath and turns to walk out.

 

The kitchens are completely deserted when he reaches them. All the lanterns are blown out, leaving the only light source to be the moon through the windows of the palace. Zayn is waiting exactly where Liam told him to with a sleek looking hunting bow strapped to his back and a satchel around his waist. He’s got the uniform for Liam in his grasp and a questioning look.

 

“Where are your bags?” Zayn asks.

 

Liam takes the outfit from Zayn’s hands with a small thanks.

 

“I had them sneakily delivered down here with my laundry this morning - they’re at the bottom of the stairs by the tower exit.” Liam looks proud of his plan and Zayn can’t help but smile just a bit as the prince pulls the uniform on over his clothing. He hands over the hood next and Liam proceeds to tuck his hair back into it and then pull the fabric mostly over his face. He’s hardly recognisable in the disguise and Zayn has to admit that he’s pretty impressed. 

 

“Alright,” Zayn says quietly, trying to come to terms with what he’s doing. “How are we going to sneak past the guards outside?”

 

“Well, the tunnel actually comes out a ways away from the castle, so as long as we don’t make any big commotion, we should be okay,” Liam answers. Zayn gives him a worried look. 

 

“Prince Liam, I don’t mean to be disrespectful, but this isn’t a good idea. You know that you’re putting yourself in serious danger, right? You don’t have the skills of an adventurer,” Zayn says lowly. 

 

“That’s why I have you. Bring me back in one piece and I’ll do the same for you,” he promises strongly. “And when we make it home, you’ll never have to work another day in your life. You can live just as comfortably as I do, if you wish.”

Zayn pauses as Liam readies his things. He honestly hadn’t thought that was on option, but he won’t lie by saying it’s not an appealing idea to trade in his hard bed for something like Liam’s got. It doesn’t really lift his spirits though.

 

“Come then,” the prince prompts, smiling brightly as if it’s not yet hit him what he’s about to do. “No time to waste like lumps on a log.”

 

Zayn shakes his head in a fond way and follows Liam out into the kitchens. They stick to the darker sides of the halls, having to duck into empty rooms more than once as guards pass. It’s not as if they’d likely be discovered, even if someone saw them - Liam’s disguise is really, pretty good - it’s just a precaution. Liam needs this to go as perfectly as possible.

They make it to the laundry room and from here it’s a straight shot to the tunnel - Liam informs as he pulls the largest of his bags onto his back and then situates the other two onto his person. Zayn watches as his big hands fumble around with the straps until he’s pleased. 

The door is just ahead, completely unguarded but it’s barred, a heavy metal padlock attached to the handle. Zayn looks at Liam’s face, calming himself when he realizes that Liam’s got a skeleton key clutched in his hand.

They’re both holding their breaths, praying that they’re not being too loud - the noise of the door unlocking sounds much louder in the vacated, tight space.

Liam slowly sets the padlock onto the stone floor and then begins to lift the wooden bar. It creaks in protest from lack of use and moves rough enough that Liam has to exert a great amount of effort, his muscles flexing. Zayn winces at the noise, but at this point, the door is pushing open and the first part of their plan is executed without a real hitch.

Liam motions for him to follow as he slips through the doorway. Liam is careful to be quiet shutting the door behind them. 

The tunnel smells of underground - a rich, earthy must - and it’s cramped, really cramped. And dark.

 

“Liam?” he whispers, instantly fishing around into his pocket for a box of matches that he always carries. He lights one quickly.

 

“Yeah, perfect,” Liam praises. Zayn’s grateful for the darkness to hide the way his face involuntarily pinkens a shade.

 

It’s such a tight space that they’re forced to crowd each other, even single file, and Zayn keeps knocking into the walls once they start moving. Even with a match, it’s still nearly black and Liam is attempting to feel his way around as to not run into any obstructions.

Zayn quickly thinks about what would happen if a part of the tunnel had caved in during all those years and they were forced to turn around. He thinks about what would happen if it caved in now - with them both trapped inside to either be crushed or to struggle for air for a few hours until they suffocate.

He shakes the grim thought away and lets Liam lead.

It feels like they walk on for hours and more than once Zayn has to relight a match - burning his fingertips a few times. He can only imagine the amount of creepy crawlies in this tunnel and he tries not to let his imagination get the best of him this time because Prince Liam looks completely unphased and unbothered.

 

“I think I see the exit up ahead,” Liam informs hopefully and Zayn agrees. It’s suddenly becoming harder for him to breathe. 

 

“Do you think they know yet?” Zayn asks quietly as a small set of steps come into sight, leading up to a cellar door.

 

Liam turns to shake his head without pausing. “Not yet, but Paul will soon enough when I don’t come back to my room. So we’d better hurry.”

 

These doors look even less used than the last, and when Liam goes to press against them, they don’t budge. Zayn can see the sudden flash of panic on his face.

He scowls and presses harder and harder until he’s forcefully ramming his shoulder into the weathered wood. Zayn steps back, not wanting to get in the way.

 

“Prince Liam, be careful. You don’t want it caving in,” he warns gently.

 

Liam grunts. “Just think if the palace was actually under attack - there’s no way I could escape this in time. The bastards,” he curses, making Zayn chuckle under his breath. Liam presses his lips together, focused on the situation and determined not to let this get the best of him, he gives it one last good shove before the doors swing open.

Zayn yelps at the sudden crack of splitting wood, but Liam is beaming. He slowly pokes his head out into the night, assessing their distance from the castle. It’s still clearly in view, but they’re far enough away that Liam must think they’re safe.

He reaches out for Zayn’s hand, pushing the match to the floor and stomping it out. “Okay, c’mon.”

 

It’s an absolute relief to breathe in the fresh, crisp night air - such a change from that of the dank tunnel. Liam allows them just a second before he leads on into the darkness.

 

“Where are we going?” Zayn asks, clutching his bow close to his body just in case.

 

“Right now we should get as far away as we can into the woods and then set up camp. I had a nap after our meeting this morning but I’m still absolutely exhausted from the night before,” Liam explains. Zayn nods.

 

“Yes, we’d better get you rested up,” he agrees. “It’s not easy out here as it is, but if you’re tired all the time, you’re probably going to die.”

 

Liam huffs a laugh. “Oh, don’t be so grim.”

 

Zayn frowns. “Liam, let’s be honest here - the chances of us both making it back alive are not good unless you want to stick to civilized places.”

 

“You can’t find good ingredients in civilized places, Zayn,” Liam argues lightly.

 

“Exactly. So you’re going to want to climb mountains and explore caves and dive into rivers and thick forests,” Zayn says, holding his hand up to list on his fingers. “Plus then you’ve got wild cats and bears and wolves up the arse-”

 

“Zayn.”

 

“And bandits - God, so many bandits I bet. Not to mention the things you can’t even see, like spiders and snakes.”

 

“Zayn,” the prince laughs, stopping and placing a hand on Zayn’s chest to bring him to a halt. Zayn’s already worried himself sick from just listing things off, his brow furrowed and eyes pleading for them to turn back. “We’re going to be okay. Really.”

 

“You don’t even have a weapon,” Zayn argues, shaking his head. Liam rolls his eyes, reaching back into his bag and slowly pulling out a modestly sized, sheathed sword. He straps it around his waist.

 

“Do you really think I’m that stupid?” he teases.

 

Zayn flushes. “No, Your Grace. I didn’t mean-”

 

“I’m only joking around,” Liam dismisses, eyes glinting amusedly. “And quit calling me that.”

 

“Your Grace?” Zayn asks as Liam starts walking again. Liam nods. “Then what am I supposed to call you?”

 

“How about just Liam?” he offers, humor coloring his voice. “Why doesn’t anyone ever just call me Liam?”

 

“Uhm, maybe because you’re our prince?” Zayn guesses like the answer’s obvious. “And it’s not socially acceptable to address you by just your first name. Gets you the chopping block where I come from.”

 

Liam rolls his eyes with a grin. “Well, I promise I won’t tell anybody.”

-

 

They end up making it another good half an hour before Liam declares that he can’t go any further. Zayn nods in agreement, glancing around in the moonlight for a good place to lay down.

 

He spots a nice patch of soft grass and heads for it and Liam follows him over to it. It’s nestled in just under the protection of a rocky embankment and Zayn pulls his bow off his shoulder, placing it with care off to the side.

 

“Shall I start a fire while you set up the area?” Liam asks.

 

Zayn smiles cheekily at him. “I don’t know, Your Majesty. You’re the one giving orders.”

 

Liam snorts at that. “In that case, I’ll start a fire while you set up the area. On the double.”

 

Zayn gives a little salute as Liam hands him the bag off his back.

 

“Bedrolls are in here along with a dining set, a medicine kit and a few jars for more liquidy samples,” he informs as Zayn starts digging through it.

 

Liam looks around and starts off for a decent sized branch a few feet away. Zayn was about to start setting up the camp, but he finds that watching Liam is a great deal more entertaining. 

Liam picks the branch up, hauls it back over and then starts back for another one, but Zayn can definitely tell that he doesn’t really know how to make a fire. Once a small pile of wood has been made, Liam stares down at it. After a few seconds he must come to the same conclusion, because his eyes trail over to where Zayn’s trying not to laugh.

 

“I have no idea what I’m doing,” he admits innocently, making Zayn finally lose it. He stifles his laughter as soon as it comes out because Liam’s obviously embarrassed though he’s smiling sheepishly.

 

“Well, you’re going to want to find a clear area for the fire - not in the grass unless you want to burn alive in your sleep,” Zayn says, walking over to him and eyeing a clear patch of dirt. He kicks a few rocks out of the way and bends to pick up one of the branches, handing it to Liam. 

 

“And you should rip most of the little twigs off of this one and then snap it in half,” he explains. Liam takes it from him and begins following the instruction. Zayn does the same to another one of the branches and so on before they’ve got a neat little pile. 

 

“This will be good. Now take one of the twigs and light it on fire.” Zayn holds up a small twig and then hands Liam his box of matches, waiting patiently until the little stick is lit at the end. “Good. Now hold it up to a branch and let it catch.”

 

Liam watches as Zayn presses the tip of the twig onto the edge of another branch and the flame catches. It doesn’t take long before the fire grows and a good portion of the logs are consumed with it.

 

“Thanks,” Liam says, casting his eyes down and giving a little smile as he rubs at the back of his neck.

 

“You’re welcome, of course,” Zayn agrees quickly, rolling out a bedroll for himself and then the other for Liam.

Liam is trying to hold back a yawn as he slips off his shoes and climbs into his, snuggling up. They’re both still fully dressed in their uniforms, but Zayn doesn’t think that’ll be comfortable. He sheds the top layer of his, toes off his boots and tries to get comfortable. He makes sure that his bow and quiver of arrows are in a reachable distance before turning over to face Liam.

He lets out a little laugh because Liam is already fast asleep, sweet face illuminated by the fire glow.

 

-

Zayn stirs awake to the sound of songbirds, perched high up in the towering trees at the edge of the forest. He allows himself until the count of twenty before he sits up and opens his eyes. Liam is still sleeping beside him, curled in on himself like he’s cold. Zayn rubs at his face, wiping the sleep from his eyes.

The fire in the pit has died down to a pile of rich colored embers, and he stands wobbly, stirring it with another branch to get it going again and then setting the branch inside to let it burn.

It must be early because there’s no sun in the sky yet, just the warm glow over the tops of the mountains, filtering through in rays. Zayn revels in the heat it creates on his face.

There’s a little creek not far off that he hadn’t noticed last night and he begins to rummage back through Liam’s bag, grabbing out a bowl that must be made of silver. He pulls his boots back on and makes his way to the stream.

There are a few tiny fish the size of flower petals darting around in the clear water and he dips the lip of the bowl into it, pulling his fingers back a couple inches because the water is ice cold. He takes a long drink and then gathers some more for Liam.

Liam is sitting up on his elbows when Zayn returns, giving a sleepy yawn. Zayn sets the bowl on a rock near the fire and sits back down. 

 

“How’d you sleep?” he asks, voice rough from slumber.

 

Liam hums and gives a little smile. “Sore.”

 

Zayn laughs. “I would imagine.” He reaches out for the bowl of water and hands it to Liam.

 

Liam gives him a thanks before drinking it down. “Wow, that’s freezing.”

 

“Yeah,” Zayn nods. “It’s autumn and I’m pretty sure it’s just melted snow from the mountains anyway.”

 

Liam stretches. “Right, right.”

 

“I’m going to change out of this uniform,” Zayn informs, picking up his own satchel and making his way just past the embankment of rock - out of the line of sight. He slips his undershirt off, letting it drop to the bushes and then does the same with the loose trousers, more than happy to just let them lay there - he hates that outfit.

Just down to his skivvies, he opens his bag and pulls out a more comfortable, more fitting black suit. It’s tight, but breathable and definitely meant for stealth. The legs of it end at the calves where Zayn slips on a pair of knee high black boots to meet the fabric, lacing them up tightly. He ruffles a hand through his hair before making his way back to the camp.

He finds that Liam has also changed back into his usual attire - a long sleeved deal with the leather pants and everything, except he’s added a blue-grey, hooded shawl to the mix. He takes care that the cape of it doesn’t get in the way of where he’s fastened his sword to his back - still very accessible. Zayn thinks it’s a hundred times better than the guard uniform.

Liam’s eyes widen a fraction when he sees what Zayn’s wearing and Zayn tries not to blush as he sits back down and grabs his bag. His hands fumble through it until they find the cool metal hilt of a dagger and he begins strapping it to the inside of his leg. 

He can feel Liam’s eyes on him, but doesn’t say anything. He might adopt a tiny smirk, but he’d never admit to it.

He lifts out a mouth veil next and loosely ties it around his neck, pulling it up over his mouth and nose to test it before deciding it’s perfectly placed and lowering it again. 

 

“Are you ready to find breakfast then?” Zayn asks.

 

“Find it?” Liam asks, pulling out a piece of cheese from his satchel. “I packed it. Here.”

 

He hands one over for Zayn as well, laughing at the impressed look Zayn gives him. “How much food do you have in there?”

 

“Enough for a day or two maybe if we eat sparingly,” Liam informs proudly. Zayn comes to find that it’s the fancy goat cheese from the palace and it’s rich and yummy. He savors it on his tongue. Liam finishes before him though and starts rolling up his bed, neatly tucking it back into his bag. Zayn does the same once he’s finished, wishing he could have more or maybe some palace eggs and wine like he has for breakfast every morning. 

With the camp mostly taken down, Zayn slings his bow over one shoulder and his quiver over the other. Liam collects another bowl of water and douses the fire completely before grabbing his bag. The size of it is greatly reduced without all the clothes in it, Zayn thinks gratefully. Thinking of the palace uniform as added weight makes him hate it even more. 

 

“What’s in that one, then?” Zayn asks, pointing to the smaller satchel on Liam’s belt. 

 

“Known ingredients for Louis’ medicine, a book of recipes, and sample bags,” he explains, patting it gently. “When we set up tonight, I’ll start going through it and testing things out.”

 

Zayn nods, not really understanding but content enough to just go along with the plan for now. He really wishes more than anything that they could turn around and go back - consequences be damned, because he just can’t see this ending well, but he doesn’t say as much because Prince Liam looks fresh faced and ready to go. To voice his opinion would only put a damper on things.

They start off for the morning, passing through the decently large town of Helgen where people are busy with their lives. It seems to be mostly for farming - large windmills drawing water from wells and older men tending to wheat fields. Kingdom guards are making their early rounds as the sun comes up and a few children are playing in the cobblestone streets, laughing and chasing each other. 

Zayn knows it’s not practical to be nervous of the guards recognising him - he’s never seen any of them in his life. However, he is worried about them recognising Prince Liam. With the town being so close to the palace, he can only imagine that these people have seen him once or twice. Liam doesn’t seem worried though. 

 

“This is where the kingdom gets most of it’s goods - a few other towns around here too, but this is the main supplier,” he informs as Zayn scoots a wandering chicken away from him with his toe. The offended hen squawks at him, but otherwise goes about pecking stones on the streets.

 

Liam giggles at the display under his breath. “This would be a good place to get eggs, I think.”

 

“Eggs to eat?” Zayn says hopefully.

 

“Sure. And egg whites for recipes,” Liam informs, pausing on his path to walk over to a chicken coop. Zayn follows closely behind. “I bet it would only be a couple pence for a dozen.”

 

Zayn rolls his eyes, quickly looking around to make sure no one is watching before dipping his hand into the unguarded coop and grabbing a few. He tucks them into his clothing with care and Liam watches in horror.

 

“Zayn,” he complains under his breath. “You can’t just take those.”

 

“Why not?” Zayn challenges. “They’re yours. You own this town and everything in it if you want to get technical.”

Liam still looks bothered, like he’s committed a kidnapping rather than just swiping a few eggs. 

 

“If they knew it was you, they’d never question it,” Zayn assures, gesturing for Liam to follow as he starts back down the path. 

 

Reluctantly, Liam does follow. “Well, yes, but they don’t know it’s me.”

 

“And they won’t even know that they’re missing, I bet,” Zayn quips, giving Liam a reassuring grin. Liam offers an unsure grimace in return.

 

“If it makes you feel any better, you can give the town a hundred chickens when we return.”

 

“I think I will,” Liam agrees challengingly.

 

Liam picks up little things as they go - little leaves or berries that Zayn would see no potential in otherwise, but he comes to find that Liam sees the good in nearly everything. He ends up just leaving his satchel flap open so he can continue sticking ingredients in. 

 

“These mushrooms are nice,” he compliments as he crouches to collect a few off of a fallen tree. “They’re called Moon Rot - harder in texture than a lot of toadstool mushrooms.”

 

Zayn quirks an eyebrow at him, because yeah, there’s no way in hell he would have known something like that by just looking at the fungus. Liam, however, seems to know a lot about a lot of things. He stands back up once he’s gotten a good enough sample and surveys the area. They’re just at the edge of the forest still, although they did dip into it a couple feet when Liam saw a particular flower he wanted a while ago. 

 

“I think we should either try for the woods or for the mountains,” Liam informs, turning to Zayn to get his opinion. 

 

“Well, they’re both pretty dangerous areas-”

 

“Or maybe the lake. The lake would be teeming with good ingredients. I’ve always suspected seaweed would have healing qualities,” Liam continues.

 

“Liam, maybe we should just stick to more populated areas,” Zayn suggests worriedly.

 

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous. I’ve already experimented with all the ingredients around here. We need to go farther.”

 

Zayn groans. “Alright. Well, if you want to go to the lake, we still have to go through the forest, so that’s our best bet, I suppose.”

 

“Brilliant,” Liam agrees, starting off towards the edge of the woods.

 

The trees act as sort of sound barrier, and once inside the confines of the forest, all you can really hear are birds and streams that run to the lake. 

Zayn swears they stop every ten feet so Liam can collect something. 

They see the occasional elk nosing through the forest floor for sweet, green foliage under the dead leaves and Zayn makes note of how nice it’ll be to take one down and have venison for supper one night. It seems that Liam, however, hasn’t ever seen a live deer up close, only just the head mounts in some of the rooms of the palace. He stops and stares at one as they pass.

The elk don’t seem to pay much mind to them until Liam starts talking, and even then, they only lift their head in observation.

 

“You think it would give me one of its antlers?” Liam asks, pointing at the one closest to them.

 

Zayn frowns at him at first and then laughs when he figures out Liam’s serious. “Well, no. They don’t just come off. You’d have to kill it.”

 

Liam looks saddened by this news. “Oh. Well, maybe not then.”

 

Zayn huffs a disbelieving laugh. 

 

-

 

It turns out that Zayn finds out more of Prince Liam’s quirks as they travel. For one, he talks to himself. A lot. He’s constantly rattling off recipes, telling Zayn a few just incase he ever needed them. Zayn knows for a fact that even if he’d had a recipe that gave instruction to the T, Zayn wouldn’t be able to do it. He lacks the bare skill that Liam has. 

Because somehow, Liam just knows. He knows where things grow and a general idea of what they do and how they taste. 

 

“This tiny leaf is good for open wounds, helps to close them. And when you crush it into a paste with  
leaf,” Liam explains excitedly, holding up a more yellow colored article. “It both cleans  
heals an area.”

 

Zayn eyes them carefully, but to him - they just look like plants. He’s certain he wouldn’t be able to pick them out in a line up.

 

“Do you have anything to make poison?” Zayn asks curiously.

 

“Of course,” Liam agrees, nodding thoughtfully. “Many, many forms of fungus can make you sick. And too much of any kind of venom could kill a person.” 

 

Zayn smirks just a bit, thinking about the mischief he could cause back in the palace - give every guard a serious case of the shits. Or maybe Princess Danielle on her next visit-

 

“Why do you ask?” Liam prompts suspiciously. “You look like you’re up to something awful.”

 

Zayn shakes his head, trying to look innocent. “No reason.”

 

“Right,” Liam snorts. 

 

They tread on, Liam stopping to pick something up every once in a while, and the deeper they go into the woods, the darker it seems to get. The trees overhead are thick and let little light filter through. Liam seems to notice the gradual change in atmosphere too.

 

“Uhm, Prince Liam, I don’t think we should be in here after dark,” Zayn informs, trying not to sound too worried.

 

“Yeah, I agree,” Liam nods. “Which way out?”

 

Zayn reaches into his pocket, pulling out a folded map. The paper is old and yellowed - loud as it unfolds to reveal a map of the Falkreath Kingdom.

“Well, we’re probably right about here,” Zayn says, pressing the gloved finger of his right hand to a spot in the forest. “And we want to go here, to the lake.”

 

Liam’s eyes follow Zayn’s instruction with care. 

 

“It would be a bit of a climb up this bluff here, but at least then we’d be out of the wooded area for the most part,” Zayn decides.

 

Liam nods. 

 

“However, I’m not sure we’re going to make it up before dark.”

 

“Well, I suppose we can still try, right?” Liam says with a hopeful smile. “Come on then, no time to waste.”

 

Zayn folds his map as he walks, tucking it back into his bag with the utmost care as not to rip the delicate paper. Maybe it’s the soon-setting sun, or maybe the idea of a nice, warm bed tonight, but Zayn misses the castle. He realizes that it’s not too late to turn around and go home, and suddenly the worry is too much for him.

 

“Prince Liam, don't you feel bad about leaving your city on their own?” Zayn asks, pausing with the fingers of one hand stroking his bow for comfort. 

 

Liam stops ahead of him too, turning towards him. He gives a genuine smile. “They’ve got Louis to take care of them.”

 

“Liam,” Zayn prompts pointedly.

 

The prince gives a little sigh, his positive attitude faltering a bit. “Zayn, it’s not like it’s something I wanted to do. I just saw no choice in the matter anymore. Besides,” he reaches out and gently swipes Zayn’s arm, grinning now. “Aren’t you having fun?”

 

Zayn’s smile is more of a fond one as he’s forced to either follow or be left behind.

 

-

 

Liam doesn’t stop for ingredients again and Zayn figures that saves them a good deal of time. They’ve made it to the cliff base just as dusk is setting the kingdom in a coral-colored light, making everything look like a dream.

It’s a good thing that the bluff isn’t a straight shot up, it’s more like a gradual build of fallen rocks. However, Zayn can see that it’s going to be more of a challenge than he’d thought. Liam is saying something about the likeliness of reaching the top before the night had truly set in when Zayn hears a twig snap to his left. Liam must not hear it, but Zayn’s head whips around so fast his vision spins.

 

Liam is still talking so Zayn hushes him. “Liam, shh.”

 

Zayn’s eyes flick around, but it’s hard to see anything in the shadows of the thick brush until Zayn sees a patch of grey fur crawling through the bushes and his hand is on his bow immediately. He’s got it in position and an arrow resting on the string in two seconds flat.

 

“Liam, you should climb the tree,” he instructs hurriedly, eyes darting to a branchy pine behind them to show which he means. He doesn’t even give Liam time to follow instruction before he’s pulling the string back tight and sending the arrow at a straight shot into the target. The animal comes spilling out of the thick - a dappled grey wolf with an arrow in it’s neck. Its dead, but Zayn’s not content yet.

He turns to Liam then, pointing to the second branch of the tree. “What did I tell you? Climb the tree!” he demands and Liam, wide eyed and startled, starts to climb up the base of the tree until he’s about a quarter of the way up.

Zayn quickly surveys the area before following, easily slipping up the tree until he’s crouched on the same branch as the prince. His eyes dart down to where Liam’s hand is gripping the branch, fingernails dug into the bark.

 

“They’re never alone,” he informs at a whisper, pulling another arrow from his quiver and stringing it. And just as he says it, another two - one grey, one black - sneak out into the clearing. Zayn holds his fingers up to his lips and Liam nods in understanding, looking worried as he holds his place on the branch as tightly as possible. 

Zayn releases the string and before the arrow can even hit into the first wolf, Zayn’s ripping another from the quiver on his back, stringing it and sending it into the second. Liam winces beside him as the first wolf yowls in pain. Zayn has hit him in a non-critical area - an arrow sticking out from his back flank and the unfortunate creature hobbles slightly.

Zayn has to close his eyes in a remorseful grimace before sending a final shot into it. Once he’s made sure that was the last of them, he places the bow back on his shoulder with shaking fingers. 

Liam lets out a jagged breath. He goes climb down the tree, but Zayn places a tight grip on his upper arm. 

 

“No. We should sleep up here tonight,” he says firmly. “We’ll take care of them in the morning.”

 

Liam looks like he wants to fight Zayn on it and press on, but a quick glance upwards shows a starry night sky. He nods in a hesitant agreement, heart still pounding in his chest.

They get their bags off of their bodies and hang them from close branches, Zayn’s bow and quivers being the closest. The branch that they’re on isn’t nearly big enough to support both sleeping boys, so Zayn climbs one higher.

 

“Make sure you don't fall out,” he teases as Liam snuggles in below him. 

 

Liam gives a little laugh and reaches up, stroking Zayn’s arm. “That was really impressive how you did that, Zayn. I was right to pick you to accompany me.”

 

“Oh, come off it,” Zayn quickly dismisses, stomach tightening. “Go to sleep.”

 

Liam makes a sound of agreement and Zayn is just glad that Liam can’t see him blushing from the branch below.

 

-

 

Zayn is stirred awake by the sound of Liam harshly whispering his name and tugging on his hand. He sits up, nearly losing his balance and falling from the tree.

 

“Zayn, wake up,” Liam pleads. Zayn quickly rubs at his eyes before blinking them awake. 

 

“What?” 

 

Liam is standing on his branch, eye level with Zayn. “What is that thing?” 

 

Zayn looks down to the clearing where a dash of bright red is digging through one of their fallen bags and Zayn laughs.

 

“It’s a fox,” he says lightly as the animal roots around through Liam’s food bag. “And it looks like it found your goat cheese.”

 

Liam makes a sad noise. “A fox? I've only ever read about them. It's not going to hurt us, right?”

 

“No, not foxes. It actually might be a baby,” Zayn wonders out loud. He shimmies down from the tree, slipping quietly to the ground. Liam watches from the safe distance of his branch with a concerned look.

Zayn bends over the moving sack to find that only the tail of the critter is poking out through the opening. He quickly scoops the bag up, trapping the fox inside and peers in. 

A pair of nervous brown eyes stare back at him and he laughs. He reaches a hand in, grabbing the scruff of it’s neck as it anxiously tries to chew his fingers and lifts it out. He was right - it’s only a young fox and it kicks gently in his grasp. 

 

“See, Liam?” Zayn asks, holding the kit up. “Just a baby.”

 

Liam climbs down, landing a lot less gracefully than Zayn had. He lights up though as he reaches out to pet it. The fox makes a little whining noise at him and threatens to bite Liam’s hand, his little teeth bared incase Liam tries anything. Liam scowls and tries again, going behind the foxes head. The fox yips at him.

 

“I won’t hurt you,” Liam assures, making Zayn snort. 

 

“It’s just scared,” Zayn assures, scratching it behind the ears as example and then setting it firmly back onto the ground. It quickly collects itself and scurries back into the leaves.

 

Zayn holds the bag back up, giggling. “It ate all the cheese.”

 

Liam groans disappointedly, taking his bag and dropping it at the base of the tree as he pouts. Zayn looks around, eyeing up the wolf bodies scattered about. He makes his way over, pulling the first arrow carefully out and following suit with the rest.

Liam has already collected their bags and hands Zayn his quiver where he slips the arrows back inside.

It’s not even dawn yet but the birds are chirping loudly in the trees. Zayn is sore from the awkward sleeping position the night before and by the way Liam rubs the back of his neck, Zayn thinks he’s sore too. “Last night was awful,” Liam confirms. “Attacked by wolves, sleeping in cold, hard trees, awake before the sun and now we have to find our own breakfast.”

 

“Well, I can definitely cook for us - that’s not a problem. But we have to make it up that cliff first,” Zayn says with a grimace. “But if the map is right, there’s a little town a mile on the other side. We can get supplies.”

 

Liam nods eagerly. “I really miss palace breakfasts. And we’ve only been out here for two days.”

 

“Well, we could turn around,” Zayn sing-songs, earning a light punch to his upper arm.

 

“No, we can’t. Now let’s get going.”

 

Zayn nods, hiking his bow up more securely on his back and they start up. After the first couple rocks, it gets easier. Zayn seems to be kind of a natural for it, knowing exactly where to put his feet in the crevices so that he keeps his balance and it’s a slow but sure pace up. It would be even easier if they didn’t have the bags to carry, Zayn mentally admits, but they need all the supplies, so they’re forced to keep them.

Liam reaches the top first, but only because he had a head start and Zayn had to take a moment to calm himself after a rock snake had slithered over his foot and he nearly pissed himself. Liam laughs a little at him, but mostly gives him sympathy and praise for handling it so well.

Liam reaches down and helps pull Zayn to the top with an incredible ease. Zayn has to hang his head a bit and pretend to get interested in something on the ground as to not let Liam see that his face is flushed.

 

“The uh, town is that way,” Zayn informs, pointing in the general direction but not looking up.

 

“Zayn, are you alright?” Liam asks, sounding concerned. 

 

“Yeah, yeah,” Zayn assures. “Just. Winded.”

 

“Oh, right. So what town is it then?”

 

“Uhm, I don’t remember,” Zayn admits, following Liam as he starts off. The forest above the cliff is considerably less dense, but still equally as dark without the sun’s light.

 

“Is it Riverwood?” Liam asks curiously and Zayn nods immediately, the name jogging his memory.

 

“Yeah, that’s it. It’s got the biggest part of the White River running through it. After that it’s a pretty straight shot to Lake Ilinalta,” Zayn says, having finally just pulled out his map and is now following the recommended path with a gloved finger.

 

“I do like Riverwood. Biggest supplier of lumber in the Hold,” Liam informs matter-of-factly. 

 

Zayn hums, eyes glinting mischievously. “Very useful, indeed. Whatever would you sit on if not for a solid cherry wood throne?”

 

Liam mocks consideration. “Maybe something nicer. Maybe when we get back I’ll ask for one in solid silver.” 

 

“Why not gold?”

 

“Ah yes, with jewels the size of hand fruit on the armrests,” Liam quips.

 

Zayn snorts a laugh, eyes all crinkled up as he refolds the map and tucks it safely away.

 

“Man, I’m starving,” Liam complains. “And tired.”

 

“Princey misses his bed,” Zayn teases, snickering under his breath. 

 

Liam chuckles at him. “You’d miss my bed too, if you’d had a taste of it. Maybe when we get home, I’ll let you have a go. You’d honestly never be the same again.”

 

Zayn’s bottom lip drops open a half-inch because even though he knows the prince didn’t mean anything obscene, his mind is still taking him there and it can’t go there now. It’s going to be an awfully long trip if he lets this happen to him.

He stays - what he’s sure is - suspiciously quiet until they’re at the edge of town. Riverwood is a lot like Helgen in that it’s a town with one purpose and Liam was right about the logging.

There are rows of men carrying chopped down logs as long as houses to a single saw mill where they dump the tree base into a long chute to be split in half by a saw blade. From there more men carry the halved logs to a location where it’s hand sawed into smaller chunks and then tossed into big cart, drawn by large-footed work horses.

It can’t even be six am yet and both carts are nearly full. Zayn turns to Liam, only to find that he’s a couple yards off, hugging the snout of a lazy mare in a pasture by the road. He nuzzles his cheek against the horse’s, looking utterly pleased.

 

“Zayn, don’t you just love horses?” he gushes, running the pads of his fingers from the crown of it’s head to the tip of it’s nose and then rubbing circles there. “They’re so soft.”

 

The horse seems content with the love unlike the fox and Liam’s got hearts in his eyes. Zayn thinks that this horse doesn’t get a lot of attention since it looks to be a bit older and not very pretty in color.

 

Zayn saunters over. “Horses are okay,” he allows. Liam is now cooing praises at the animal, bending down to rip some sweet, green grass from the earth and feed it to her.

 

“C’mon, Liam,” Zayn says, giving a fond smile. “We need breakfast. And I want a nap. I feel like I was cheated out of my hours.”

 

Liam says a long goodbye to the mare as Zayn slowly makes his way over to a produce cart where a woman is selling fresh cuts of meat and veggies. Zayn picks out a few things that Liam pays for with coins he took when they left the kingdom and Zayn packs them carefully away. 

There’s an inn in the town, but Zayn thinks they should conserve their money since they don’t have enough to keep wasting. They’ll have to find their own food for dinner and breakfast from now on.

They follow the river, stopping after what seems like miles to set up camp. Zayn gets a fire started while Liam takes his shawl off and washes up in the cool, rushing water. They switch spots when he’s finished - Liam getting a few things into a pan to fry up while Zayn splashes his face off. The cold is pleasant and one look up into the forest on their left tells Zayn that fall is on its way. The leaves are just starting to change, slipping into something a little more warm in color than the bright, vibrant green he’s used to. 

 

“Do you think we should use those eggs too?” Liam asks, rooting through Zayn’s bag to dig out the four he had ripped off from Ivarstead.

 

“Yeah, definitely,” Zayn says. “I think I could eat a whole cow. A whole _horse_.”

 

Liam looks up at him like a kicked hound, chocolate eyes looking utterly hurt. Zayn snickers.

 

“I’m kidding. You’re just a lot of fun to tease.”

 

Liam pouts, cracking all of the eggs and letting them sizzle over the flames. “I’m going to buy her when I get home.”

 

“You’re going to buy that particular, fat, old mare?” Zayn humors.

 

“Yes. And I’ll treat her like a princess. Actually, I might make her my princess. Wouldn’t that be something?”

 

Zayn rolls his eyes, grinning as he shakes his head. He’s biting back words. Something along the lines of,  
. Of course he would never say anything like that. One, because it’s an awful thing to say, and two, because it’s not fair. Princess Danielle of Morrowind is lovely, but. Well.

 

“It sure would,” Zayn says instead. Despite having a lovely breakfast of eggs of tea and wine and rich, creamy cheese every morning, Zayn doesn’t think he’s ever been more pleased with a meal.

He’s so hungry that by the time Liam has the food on a plate - one single plate since there was only one brought - he thinks he’d literally eat it off the dirty ground.

He has his whole meal finished in maybe a minute, and Liam too. It’s gone so embarrassingly fast that the food hasn’t even hit their stomachs by the time Liam is putting another log on the fire. 

 

Both in agreement that they need a few more hours of good rest, Liam gets out the bed rolls. Zayn is the first to pull off his boots and slide into his, cuddling up with his bag under his head and his bow always within reach. They’re not too far off from a populated road, so he's not too worried about being sneak attacked, but it’s always just a precaution. Liam follows suit, crawling into his bed and closing his eyes.

Zayn falls asleep near instantly, despite his sore, protesting muscles.

 

-

 

They’ve reached Lake Ilinalta by the time the sun is just beginning to set. The lake is home to a plethora of creatures, ranging from lazily chewing elk to long-legged birds pulling minnows from the glassy water and lake rats, carrying lost branches to their dams. 

Liam spends a good hour walking around the lake, sword strapped to his back as Zayn readies a new camp. This one is nicer because they set up on a clearing of soft, padded grass and tucked away into an overlay of rocks on one side and a protective willow hanging overhead. 

Zayn pulls a couple crabs from the beach for their dinner and begins to de-meat them. They fry in the cast iron skillet over a fire that keeps his fingers warm and happy.

When Liam returns, he’s clutching so many containers in his arms that Zayn’s afraid they’ll all spill out. When dinner is done, Zayn plates it and it cools while Liam starts packing rocks over the fire in a careful fashion so that he can set the skillet on top without having the flames lick and burn it.

Zayn picks at his food, only half tasting and fully interested in what Liam is doing. He’s got his samples laid out, next to him and he adds a few together. If he’s happy with it, he bottles it. If he’s not, he dumps it off to the side, wipes the pan out and starts over. He does this until he has three little bottles of mixed ingredients. One powder and two liquids.

 

“You got a blade?” he asks, eyes flicking up to Zayn. “I don’t want to use my sword.”

 

“Here,” Zayn says, nodding and reaching down his inner thigh here his dagger is. He pulls it out and hands it over to Liam, hilt first.

Liam thanks him, obviously in the zone and begins to drag the blade over the meaty part of his hand before Zayn can protest. A sharp, angry red cut forms as Liam winces.

 

Zayn yelps, grabbing his dagger back and giving Liam an  
look. 

 

“They must be tested,” he defends cooly, holding one of the liquids a few inches over the cut and pouring it on. He squeaks, making Zayn jump nervously as the liquid sizzles up at the open wound.

 

“Oh god, Liam. Don’t,” Zayn pleads, chewing his thumb nail.

 

“No, this one is good,” Liam objects happily, still looking slightly pained. “You can tell by the sting and the reaction that it’s cleaning the area.”

 

He takes his free hand and materializes a well-used quill and sealed ink well from his bag and jots down the exact ingredients. 

 

He holds his hand back out for the blade but Zayn fervently shakes his head in protest. “No more of that.”

 

Liam rolls his eyes. “Zayn, they have to be tested. I’ll never know how they work until I try them out.”

 

“What if one gives you an infection? What if one is poisonous?” Zayn objects, annoyed with the prince for being so careless.

 

“Well, obviously I know what properties they have. I don’t just blindly mix things together and hope that it works,” Liam explains calmly, like he’s not mad, but secretly just as annoyed as Zayn. “Give me some credit.”

 

Zayn casts his eyes down in slight shame, handing the blade back over. It’s ironic to him that Liam could say such a thing when Zayn gives him all the credit in the world and then some. He’s not sure if he’s ever held someone so highly before.

After that he watches in silence as Liam continues experimenting with different cuts and different items. Once he’s got a general idea of how each work, he jots it all down in his book and sets the pan aside to cool.

 

“The seaweed and red mushroom one was more of a soothing one. I think it’s more of a painkiller than a healer, but that’s good to know too,” he says, tapping the bent feather end of his quill against his bottom lip. 

Zayn pushes over the crab meat that he’s been keeping warm and Liam accepts it thankfully, picking at it with just his fingers. Zayn watches sleepily, feeling suddenly cozy in their nook. He closes his eyes for just a second and imagines being tucked away, snuggled into Liam’s side and blushes at just the thought.

 

“Uh, Liam,” he starts, gaining Liam’s full attention immediately. “Do you think. Well, it’s been kind of cold these past couple nights and...”

 

Liam cocks his head to the side just a fraction, adopting a warm smile.  
“Yeah, you wanna cuddle?” he asks. “I didn’t know if you’d want to otherwise I would have asked rather than shivering my bollocks off.”

 

If Zayn had known it was this easy, he’d have brought up before they ever started the trip. He nods slowly, as to not look too eager. “Yeah, I mean. If you want to.”

 

“Of course,” Liam assures. “I think we can turn the sleep rolls into one if we just-”

 

Zayn lets him trail off, smiling like an idiot and not caring. He falls asleep that night with Liam’s arm slung over his shoulder and his leg over Liam’s. Intertwined in a warm, comfortable knot with Liam’s soft breath hitting the top of his head.

The chorus of chirping frogs and crackling wood is the soundtrack to his euphoric state.

 

-

 

Zayn wakes up first. The sun is setting the cool autumn earth in a yellowish glow over the mountains and the first thing Zayn registers is the soft sound of waves brushing up over the sandy beach a few feet away. He stands, glances at Liam, and then heads to the water. He pulls his gloves off and dips his hands into the chilled water, making a bowl of them and bringing them up to scrub the water over his face. He repeats this three times before running wet fingers through his hair to brush it back.

He sits, crouched by the water as he stares up at the deep grey mountains, capped with white snow. He’s homesick and sad, and his stomach is sinking, thinking of how long their trip will still be.

He turns to see Liam sitting up in his bedroll a few feet away. Liam must notice the dejected look on Zayn’s face, even though Zayn tries to turn away as quickly as he can. He doesn’t want to worry Liam, but he can’t help how he feels. He can’t seem to pass off this feeling of impending failure.

 

“Zayn, are you okay?” Liam asks, combing his fingers through his hair. 

 

Zayn licks his lips nervously, looking out over the water. “Yeah,” he lies. Liam catches it instantly. 

 

He gives a sigh that Zayn can hear.

 

“I know you don’t want this, but I can’t just sit around anymore, Zayn. I’m sorry I drug you along with me, but what’s done is done and I need you to stand by me here. It’ll never work if one our hearts isn’t in it.”

 

Zayn gives a bitter smile, thinking of the irony in that sentence - about how all he’s ever done is for Prince Liam. About how he’d die for the prince in a heartbeat.

 

“I know. I’ll be fine,” he dismisses, giving a tight smile and making his way back to the fire. He prods at it with a stick until it’s going again.

 

Zayn is able to strike a fish with his bow and arrow for breakfast as Liam hunts around the water for ingredients. He ends up bringing back a fat seed pod and a sprig of leafy sea weed as Zayn is scaling and deboning the fish. 

Liam collects all the scales too, crushing them into a powder. He’s got his recipe journal laid out across his lap as he scribbles things down and leafs through the pages for reference. 

 

“When I was young, a healer came from another kingdom and he had told me about a certain type of berry that grows only in cold temperatures and he was sure it had miracle-like properties,” Liam says as he runs his fingers across a written line in the book like he’s confirming his words. 

Zayn listens intently, thinking mostly about the “cold temperatures” phrase than anything else as he lays one half of the long fish across a rock on the fire.

“He hadn’t ever tested it though,” Liam finishes, sounding troubled with his brows tipped up in the middle as he speaks. 

 

“Cold, huh?” Zayn asks, working on the other half of the fish.

 

“Yeah. Like mountains,” Liam replies, eyes flicking up to the distance set of them.

 

Zayn huffs a sigh as he plates the first slab of fish. “Alright. We can head there next.”

 

“The good news,” Liam starts happily, picking up a piece of breakfast with his fingers and chewing it. “Is that I’ve found just about every type of painkiller there is out here. And this.”

 

He reaches into his satchel and pulls out a little vial of white liquid. “Is a good poison. A drop will make someone throw up, a teaspoon will make someone ill for a week.”

 

“What is it?” Zayn asks curious, taking it from Liam’s fingers to inspect it. 

 

“It’s a mucusy substance that covers fish eggs in the water. I found a book on it’s properties in the kingdom on the eighth of September last year, the journal says, and I’ve been meaning to collect a sample.

 

“See, it’s special because it’s nearly tasteless and it doesn’t really have the ability to kill someone, just give them a tummy ache.”

 

Zayn quirks an eyebrow at him, forced into smiling at how cute Liam sounds, even when describing a poison. He’s just so excited, like an animal getting attention. “And what do the fish scales do?” he asks, just because he likes hearing Liam explain things.

 

“I think they’d be good in beauty supplies, actually. I can’t wait to take the powder home and try it on someone,” he says excitedly. “I would use it on my hair, except my hair is such a dull brown. But if we mixed it with honey and used it in your hair I bet it would make it really shiny.”

 

Zayn nods in faux consideration, grinning. “I’d love to.” "If we make it back alive", he thinks.

 

“So, the mountains. We’re going to have to stop and get warmer clothes somewhere. Maybe we can trade some things,” Zayn suggests, eating at his fish and enjoying the warmth of it.

 

“Well, we could trade a bedroll, since we really only use one,” Liam says after a pause, sheepishly flicking his eyes up to meet Zayn’s as his cheeks pinken. “I’d like to only use one anyway.”

 

Zayn gives him an impressed look, stomach dancing. “Yeah, okay. Definitely.”

 

“Because it’s getting colder and all,” Liam quickly adds, obviously embarrassed. “And we need to conserve as much body heat as possible, you know?”

 

Smirking, Zayn nods as he eats. “Of course, your Highness.”

 

Liam scoffs a laugh, finding maybe it’s easier to just shut up.

They pack up camp as Zayn pulls his veil up over his mouth, suddenly catching a chill. He reaches into his bag to retrieve the map and opens it over a rock.

 

“It’s a lot of easy walking from here to the mountains. We’ll have to get around the lake and take a straight shot through this flat land. Should be okay though if we stick to a path.”

 

Liam nods in understanding as he pulls his hood over his head and leads the way.

 

“We’re heading towards Rorikstead, right?” he says simply. “Like right through the area with the hot springs?”

 

Zayn perks in interest. “Hot springs?”

 

“Yeah, like. For bathing and such. I’ve heard travelers talk about them and I believe they’re charted on the mural of the kingdom on the common room wall.”

 

“I want a bath,” Zayn informs lustfully, biting his bottom lip. “I’m so used to the lukewarm showers in the barracks. Can’t have a single wash without eyeing up another guard’s junk.”

 

Liam giggles. “Sounds truly awful for you.”

 

Zayn smirks. “Are you implying something, Prince Liam?”

 

Liam shoots him a cheeky grin. 

It takes them a good quarter of the day to make it all the way around the lake, but eventually they find a path through the woods, trampled and traveled fairly consistently and that makes Zayn feel better about this particular stretch of journey. 

Liam pauses to look up at the sky when a huge shadow crosses over their path and their eyes quickly find a large winged bird soaring over head, blocking out the sun for half a second.

 

“Woah,” Liam breathes, because the bird must be twice the size of Liam in any direction. “My father would be turning in his grave if he knew I was out here.”

 

The phrase is so sudden that Zayn stops to just stare at the prince for a second. He then frowns deeply. “Well, it doesn’t matter. Your father was a wretched man. You’re a thousand times the king he was,” Zayn promises.

 

When Liam meets his eyes, he must find something sincere there, because Liam’s features are softening into a stunned silent look. 

 

“You think so?” he asks, sounding like he’s seeking approval more than anything. 

 

“With all my heart,” Zayn states honestly, casting his eyes down to the path as Liam joins his side and they continue walking. “Your father was awful to my family and I guess I’ve never forgiven him for that.”

 

“He was?” Liam asks, suddenly cold in tone and Zayn gets the feeling that it’s not him the sudden chill is directed at.

 

“Yes. My father came from Solitude working as a fisherman. He lived in an area of poverty that the city refused to consider, so he came to Falkreath - risking his life in the journey with only a horse and a bag of food - to ask for the king’s help.”

 

“And what did the king say?” Liam asks hesitantly, like he doesn’t want to know the answer.

 

“When my father finally came in company with the king, he was told that asking for help was a sign of weakness and that the weak were punished. The king had his horse killed in front of him, took what little money he had and ripped the clothes from his back. He told my father that he could either leave and die on the journey home, or stay and work as a servant.”

 

Liam is staring at the ground as he walks, looking completely torn up about a man he’d never met in his life. 

 

“Obviously, my father chose to stay, as much as he didn’t want to. He was never allowed to leave or contact his family. But he says it wasn’t all bad. He met a lovely cleaning maid and well...The rest you can figure out,” Zayn finishes with a little smile.

 

Liam is still giving him sad eyes. “I understand that a lot of people’s stories are much the same. I’ve heard countless of similar testimonies about my father’s cruelty. I guess I was too young to realize what was going on.”

 

Zayn stops walking, forcing Liam to a halt as well and he turns to the prince. Hesitantly, he lifts a hand to stroke down Liam’s jaw line. He’s nervous about it because any kind of contact with the prince is to be strictly protective, but the need to caress him in that moment is so strong that Zayn carries out the action either way. Liam leans into it, looking so honest and sincere.

 

“You know, when your father died and you were crowned, one of the first things you did was send help to that district. Do you know that?” Zayn asks, frowning because Liam still looks so hurt by his father before him. “The next place you sent help was a district in Markarth that had fallen ill with the plague. That’s where my mother is from - she lost her sisters to that very illness. How can you have any doubts about my feelings for you?”

 

Liam lets out a breath as he absorbs what Zayn is saying.

 

“And you don’t even know me. It’s by complete chance that you’ve aided my family - the whole kingdom. And all you had to do was give a word. He never did that. If you’re a thousand times the man he was  
, think of what you’ll be as king.”

 

“Stop,” Liam laughs breathlessly, looking overwhelmed. “I-I don’t know what to say anymore. I believe you.”

 

Zayn laughs, shaking his head, he starts on again so he doesn’t have to look into Liam’s eyes when he says, “I’m sorry. I just. I have qualms about you doubting yourself. My family loves you.”

 

Liam stays silent, hiding a smile because he doesn’t know why that in particular pleases him so much.

 

-

 

As soon as they’re out of the forest, Zayn spots the springs. They’re in small pools, some raised up off the ground a few inches and from this far away, Zayn can see them going on for miles. The rusty red ground around them looks cracked and dry next to the crystal blue water. 

They end up picking up the pace, rushing the last few feet to the pools. At the first one they find, Zayn dips his fingers in and shivers. 

 

“By the Gods, Liam,” he squeaks excitedly. “They’re so warm.”

 

Liam nods eagerly, running a hand through the same one. 

 

“Should we get in?” Zayn asks, nodding with his words to show where his favor lies. 

 

Liam laughs back, “I think we should wait until we get further. Because, well. We can’t exactly get in with our clothes on and I think I’d feel shy getting naked right here in the open, yah know?”

 

Zayn’s eyes widen a fraction, cheeks flushing. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

 

He lets Liam lead him further in and they have to wind their way around the little springs, this way and that because they’re littered everywhere.

 

“We should wait ‘til dark, yeah?”

 

Zayn doesn’t like that idea. He wants a bath right now, but he shuts his mouth and lets Liam make the calls. He’s waited his whole life to get in a hot spring and he figures he can probably make it another couple hours.

There are little yellow and orange flowers popping up out of the sand that Liam pauses to inspect. He calls them dragon’s tongue and says they have a purplish root used as an antivenom for many types of spider bites. He dips to collect a few as Zayn eyes the steaming water of the pool closest to them with a longing gaze.

Once Liam has his fill of flowers, they head on. The sun is about to set and Liam figures they’ve made it about three-quarters of the way through the spring field. As it gets darker outside, Zayn spots a light in the distance, flickering and dancing off the pools of water. It must catch Liam’s eye at the same moment, because they stop and share a look of mutual interest. It’s not discussed but they head towards it out of curiosity. 

 

Zayn pauses as they get closer because the light is hidden by a particularly tall pool that drops over into a cluster of smaller ones like an intricate palace fountain. Zayn places a hand on Liam’s chest, letting him know that he’ll lead to investigate the possible threat. The closer they get, the easier it is to hear the crackle of a fire and the sound of soft talking over the white noise of spring water splashing around them.

 

Zayn has a quick thought of "bandit" as he peeks his head around the corner of the pool and his face falls into a humored expression because - definitely not bandit.

 

He turns and gives Liam a smirk. Liam returns him a questioning look, asking with his eyes if it’s safe. Zayn gently pushes him into the open and Liam barks a laugh, instantly covering his mouth with his hands because he’s just standing there and staring while Zayn is completely hidden.

 

It’s a camp set up into a nestled little area - a huge fire that’s cooking a fat rabbit on a spit, a tent set up in the corner and a pair of boys lounging, completely naked, in their own private spring. They had been talking amongst themselves, but they both turn to look at Liam, startled by his loud outburst.

 

One of them is pale, milky white and bright blonde with two little war stripes of mud under his eyes. He’s sitting closest to Liam with his arms hanging out of the pool. The other is lankier and has a head of chocolate curls with three pheasant feathers tucked into one side, sticking out in a way that should be humorous, but Liam ends up fond about it.

 

“What’s so funny?” the brunette asks hesitantly, eyes wide like a startled animal. 

 

Liam, blushing hard, shoots a look and tugs Zayn out from behind the raised rock.

 

“Well, we saw your fire and thought maybe you were bandits but, uhm. Clearly not,” Liam giggles.

 

“Bandits? Naw,” the blonde replies happily. “Haz and I aren’t bandits.”

 

“Then what are you doing way out here?” Zayn asks curiously. “Other than living the good life, obviously.”

 

“We’re hunters,” the brunette answers matter-of-factly, if not a little sore sounding about the imposition. Liam is trying really, really hard to not stare at their exposed bodies, but they both seem to be sporting some serious hard ons and if that’s not distracting, Liam doesn’t know what is.

 

“Hunters?” Zayn scoffs. “You kids look barely sixteen. Hardly weaned off the bottle”

 

“Seventeen,” Curly complains, scowling and looking like a cat whose tail you accidentally stepped on. Zayn puts his hands up in surrender, grinning easily.

 

“Sorry. Seventeen,” he corrects. 

 

“And I’m eighteen,” the blonde chirps happily. “M’Niall.”

 

“Harry,” the brunette adds, smiling easily enough that Zayn knows he’s already forgiven. Zayn is brave enough to reach forward and shake both of their hands.

 

“Are you staying for dinner then? Haz made rabbit,” Niall informs, proudly ruffling a hand on Harry’s head, milky white fingers disappearing in the curls.

 

Zayn and Liam share a sold look and Liam nods instantly. “If you’ll have us. That would be lovely.”

 

“Yeah, yeah,” Harry replies, patting the water next to him. “Have a seat, mate.”

 

Liam stares at him for a second until he realizes what he’s implying and then Zayn watches delightedly as Liam blushes.

 

“What, like. Get in with you?” Liam asks nervously. 

 

“Well yeah,” Harry answers like it’s obvious. “Don’t be such a prude.”

 

Liam wrings his hands together in front of him and he keeps flicking his eyes up to gauge Zayn’s reaction. 

 

“Maybe we’ll just have a bath after dinner, yeah?” Liam suggests, trying not to sound rude by denying Harry but also effectively shooting down the offer. Zayn rolls his eyes fondly.

 

“Alright, man. Suit yourself,” Niall answers, turning to Harry to finish his sentence in an easy, joking tone. “Sheesh, you’d think we were in company of royalty here.”

 

Zayn sputters a laugh at the slightly alarmed look on Liam’s face. Liam seems to smooth it out professionally before either boy notices.

Harry stands then, making a loud splashing sound as he exits the water. Liam and Zayn both look away in favor of modesty as Harry pulls on a pair of loose trousers. He takes a seat by the fire and picks up a jug of wine, handing it to Zayn.

 

“Drink?” 

 

Zayn nods eagerly, uncorking it and wrapping his lips around the rim. He smiles after a long swig, handing it over to Liam. Liam repeats the action with a lot more self restraint, only taking a sip.

 

“That’s nice,” he compliments, holding the jug to inspect it.

 

“Haz makes it,” Niall informs, spreading out in the water with the absence of Harry.

 

Harry is sat at the spit, sticking a blade into the meat to see if it’s cooked through. He flashes Liam an agreeing smile as he bends to grab utensils for their dinner. His face falls to a disappointed look.

 

“Niall, we only have two bowls,” he complains. “None for our friends here.” Niall strokes his chin, looking almost as troubled.

 

“No worries,” Zayn replies, pulling his bag around and setting it onto the ground. He unlatches the opening and delves a hand in for the single bowl they have. “Liam and I can share.”

 

“Oh, alright,” Harry agrees, lighting up as if finding the solution to that problem was the best thing he could imagine. He takes the bowl and begins by cutting off a chunk of the cooked rabbit. He sets that in the bowl and then begins to dish out some stew into the bowl over it. “So if he’s Liam, then who are you?”

 

Zayn grabs the bowl back with a hum of gratitude. “He’s Liam, I’m Zayn.”

 

“Exotic,” Niall compliments pleasantly. 

 

“Redguard,” Zayn informs. People at the palace would have maybe looked down their nose at him after information about his origins, but Niall seems pleased to be given any kind of attention at all.

 

“The Redguard have lovely features,” Harry adds, giving Zayn a slightly dazzled look - one that Liam matches easily. 

 

“Doesn’t he?” he agrees, running fingers through Zayn’s hair, surprising Zayn with the action. He leans into it a little, he’ll admit.

 

“What about you then?” Niall asks, eyes directed at Liam as soon as the subject of complementing Zayn has gone.

 

Liam pauses, eyes flicking around. “I’m from Falkreath.”

 

“City?” Niall confirms, completely interested. Liam is happy enough that he doesn’t look as if he suspects anything. He figures that this far out of the city, these two don’t even know about the missing prince.

 

Liam nods, rubbing the back of his neck in slightly humored nerves. “Uh, yeah.”

 

“Niall, I got one. A Redguard and a castle boy decide to go on an adventure,” Harry teases lightly.

 

Zayn leans over to press his lips to Liam’s ear as Niall and Harry continue on. Quietly enough that only Liam can hear over the sounds of laughter, the fire and rushing water, Zayn says, “It’d be even funnier if they knew they were talking to the prince.”

 

Liam gives a breathless laugh as Zayn then fishes a hand back into their bag to pull out two spoons. He sets the bowl in Liam’s lap as he pulls off his bow and sets it aside, propped up against a rock. His quiver goes next until he’s free of all that weight. He then takes the bowl back and allows for Liam to follow suit.

He unstraps his sword and sheath and then begins to pull off his shawl, rolling his shoulders like he’s feeling the same relief Zayn is.

They share their dinner together and Harry dishes them up another bowl once the first is finished. Niall, however, takes his dinner from his spot in the hot spring. Zayn thinks that it looks like a dream and he watches with envious eyes. He would have had no problem stripping down because right now, all he wants out of life is a dip.

 

“So, where are you two from? How’d you get way out here?” Liam asks with genuine concern, giving them an earnest look, Zayn notices fondly. “You’re a little young to be off by yourselves.”

 

“I’m from Markarth - lost my parents and sister to the illness so I didn’t really have a choice but to leave,” Harry answers first. Liam’s earnest look grows to that of great pity.

 

“Oh, Harry. I’m sorry,” he replies sincerely. “But that plague died out two years ago. This happened when you were fifteen?”

 

Thirteen,” Harry replies. He’s eerily cool talking about it - in a way that Zayn could never muster when talking about something so tragic. “My mum was one of the first to catch it. The town doctors said it was an act of the Gods that I didn’t fall to it. I figured I’d just cut my losses and scram before my luck ran out.”

 

Liam looks like he’s considering pulling him in for a comforting hug. He must decide that it’s not warranted this early into their meeting, because he just leans over into Zayn a bit instead. Zayn eyes Niall.

 

“What about you then?” he asks, wrapping an arm around Liam’s shoulders. 

 

“I’m not from the Falkreath Hold. I made it all the way here from Shivering Isles on a cargo ship,” Niall informs proudly. Harry laughs at him, eyes sparkling as if he’s heard this story a hundred times but he’s just as excited to hear it again the hundred and first. “Then I stowed away in a yak cart over the border, wandered through the mountains for a couple days and somehow ended up in Markarth.”

 

“And that’s where you met Harry?” Zayn prompts taking a bite of a loaf of bread Harry is passing around. 

 

“Course,” Niall agrees, grinning back at Harry with just as much enthusiasm.

 

“So...,” Liam starts, trailing off as he blushes. “You two are. Together?”

 

Niall shrugs, sharing a look with Harry. “Sometimes.”

 

Zayn smiles and shakes his head, feeling comfortably full after the second bowl of stew. 

 

“But not really,” Harry finishes, Niall nodding at him. Harry’s eyes fall on Zayn with a certain level of interest. “Just so you know.”

 

Zayn’s eyebrows raise as he breathes a laugh. Liam’s reaction is much the same. 

 

“Hear that Zayn?” Liam teases. “Now’s your chance.”

 

Zayn and Niall both laugh as Harry makes a kissy face at him. Niall reaches over from his tub to pick up the jug of wine.

 

“You’re lovely, but I think you may be a bit young for me,” Zayn informs, giving Harry an apologetic smile. Harry doesn’t look too bothered by it. By anything. 

 

In his head he’s giving himself a mental pat on the back for that save. He can’t even imagine attempting to explain the fact that he’s never really had feelings for anyone other than the prince he serves - even as cute as Harry is.

Liam is taking the jug from Niall’s grasp as it’s handed to him and they begin passing it around again in comfortable silence. It’s then that Liam’s eyes land on the rack of pelts, slightly hidden by the set of tent. He lights up.

 

“Hey, do you guys trade?” Liam asks interestedly. “We were meaning to get some warmer materials since we’re trying to head to more mountainous areas.”

 

Niall and Harry share another look and nod in unison.

 

“We usually take our goods to towns to sell and trade, but I don’t see why we can’t now,” Niall replies. “Why, what do you got?”

 

Liam considers for a moment before grabbing his bag. “I’ve got plenty of potions of any kind. Poisons, antibiotic, and painkillers.”

 

“Also, a skillet and a few little blades,” Zayn adds. 

 

Liam starts pulling things from his bag and handing them to Harry to hold. 

 

“What’s this one do?” Harry asks, holding the little vial up for inspection.

 

“It’s a paralysis poison - weak in nature. I suppose you could line an arrow head with it and paralyze an animal. It’s weak enough that it would wear off when you cooked it,” Liam explains.

 

“Yeah, that’s nice,” Niall says excitedly. “How much do you have?”

 

Liam shrugs. “Well, I could make however much we’d need to get two, good-sized pelts.”

 

“Maybe like four of these,” Harry says, turning to Niall for his approval. The blonde nods back in agreement.

 

Liam smiles, obviously pleased. “I can do that no problem.”

 

A few minutes pass and Zayn is watching Niall and Harry’s eyes flick from each other to what Liam is doing. Liam’s sat on the ground with their washed out dinner bowl in his hands. He’s carefully mixing in ingredients, holding it up to the light every now and again to gauge its consistency. 

 

“Do you have an empty jug like that?” He asks, gesturing to the wine in Zayn’s hands once he has the poison just how he wants it. Zayn takes one last long swig before handing over the empty container.

Liam takes it, giving him a disbelieving laugh. He dips the lip of the jug into the spring water and swishes it around to get out the extra wine and then dumps it out onto the dry earth. He then carefully empties the potion into the jug and hands it back over to Harry.

 

“Just make sure not to drink that, thinking it’s wine,” Liam warns seriously. Harry barks a laugh. 

 

“I promise I won’t, Mum,” he replies cheekily. “You can pick out your pelts in the morning before you go.”

 

Liam nods, completely content with the trade. He looks over at Zayn to find a pair of hazel eyes already on him. Zayn blinks slow, tired when their eyes meet.

 

“You want a bath then?” Liam asks. Zayn perks with the words and nods. 

 

“We’ll probably be asleep when you get back,” Niall responds. “But you can set up your beds or whatever you have and we’ll see you in the morning.”

 

Liam agrees as Zayn tugs his arm, already standing. Zayn leads them to the other side of the camp, completely hidden behind the tent and a particularly large rock embankment. He picks a pool big enough to support them both and starts stripping.

He’s too eager for even modesty as he starts to peel off his suit, getting to about the hip before he remembers that his boots overlap the legs and he starts pulling those off instead, a little wobbly. He sets his clothes aside and starts into the pool, eyelashes fluttering at how nice the hot water feels on his skin. As soon as he’s in, he’s sitting, leaning back against the side of the pool so that the water comes up to his collarbones. 

Liam watches as the steam rolls out of the water and he starts with his shirt first, pulling the loose material over his head and laying it gently over top of Zayn’s articles. Next he works on the buttons of his leather pants, bending instantly to unlace his boots. He quickly glances over at Zayn and finds him watching out of the corner of his eye. Their gazes meet for half a second before Zayn breathes a laugh and looks away.

Liam gets both boots off and then starts to shimmy out of his pants, letting them drop and setting them off to the side. He hurries to get in the water once he’s completely naked because it’s cold and there’s nothing more inviting to him in that moment than a hot bath. After nearly stumbling over the ledge, he sits across from Zayn in the water, tipping his head back to wet his hair a bit. He runs a hand through it, separating the curls as he breathes out a pleased sigh.

 

“This is nice. Damn nice,” he admits. Zayn hums in agreement, head rested back on the side of the pool. 

 

“We need to get some of these in the palace,” Zayn informs dreamily.

 

“Zayn,” Liam laughs. “I have a whole room of them - a whole bath house.”

 

Zayn gives him a completely offended and judgemental scowl. “And nobody ever said anything to me?”

 

Liam shrugs sheepishly. “It’s kind of only for me. A luxury thing. And it’s not like I knew you before this really.”

 

Zayn huffs, turning his nose up.

 

“Can you imagine what you would have said? ‘Yes, Guard. I have this room full of baths and you really have to check it out with me’,” Liam mocks.

 

Zayn cackles. “I would have said, ‘Damn, alright. I guess I'm a royal prostitute now.’”

 

Liam’s wide eyes flick up to him, his cheeks shading pink. “That is absolutely not what I meant,” he explains breathily as a smile finds his lips.

 

“Right, right. Virgin Prince and all.” Zayn realizes he’s in way over his head. 

 

Liam scoffs, obviously not wanting to bost about it, but also wanting to defend his honor.  
“I am not a virgin. Not when every father in the kingdom is trying to send you his daughter to wed and somehow forgets to pick her up for a few days. We had to start cleaning out storage rooms for all the girls attempting to convince me to wed them.”

 

Zayn is the one to adopt a shocked look then. “You slept with all of those girls over the course of...” He pauses, trying to remember how young Liam was when they started arriving. “What, five years?” 

 

Liam laughs then, shaking his head and water beadlets drip from his hair. “Gods, no. Just a few of them.”

 

Zayn is honestly a bit impressed. He’s about to say something else when Liam adds, “And Louis.”

 

“You slept with Louis?!”

 

Liam chuckles. “Yeah, I mean. We grew up together. Just experimenting really. No feelings there, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

 

Zayn is completely speechless, just staring at how the fireglow dances along the top of the water. He doesn’t have the capacity to look any deeper into the meaning of what he’s hearing. 

“I think he’s actually kind of smitten with his nurse,” Liam ponders, half just speaking to himself.  
“What about you?”

 

Zayn’s eyes flick up to him, a dumbstuck look on his features, he's sure. “What?”

 

“Who do you have your eye on?” Liam asks, smiling warmly. 

 

“I-,” Zayn starts but can’t seem to think of how to piece together a sentence. “I don’t.”

 

Liam nods in understanding before Zayn cuts in again. “I’m not a virgin though.”

 

Liam gives him a humored look. “Okay,” he says simply.

 

It’s quiet for a few minutes, but not uncomfortably so. Zayn realizes that the sound of the crackling fire and the hot water have relaxed him to near sleep, and he sits up, finding Liam in a similar being.

“Hey,” Zayn says, gently pressing on his shoulder. “No falling asleep in the water. I can’t have you drowning.”

 

Liam rubs at his eyes with a smile. “Yeah, okay.”

 

“Is it bedtime then?” Zayn asks, already standing and cupping his modesty in his hand. He blushes as Liam looks away, smiling amusedly. 

 

“Must be, yeah. I’m completely beat.” He waits for Zayn to get out before standing as well. Liam hands him his shawl to use as a towel and they pass it back and forth until they’re dry. They wander back to the camp with their clothes in hand and they dress as Liam hangs his shawl to dry out.

Zayn takes half a second to peek into the opening of the tent, softening at the way Harry is curled up to Niall’s side. His age is so clearly evident in sleep - a boy of seventeen with only another young boy for family. Both of them are deep into slumber so Zayn lets the flaps on the tent close with a smile.

As Zayn sets out the bedroll, he finds that it’s been warmed due to sitting by the fire for hours and he’s quick to get in. Liam crawls in too, at the very edge and settles. 

It looks as if Liam has fallen back to sleep for a minute before his eyes pop open and they meet Zayn’s with a blank expression. Zayn can already tell what he wants so he fondly rolls his eyes and holds an arm out.

 

“C’mere,” he requests. Liam gives a thankful smile and scoots over into Zayn’s embrace. Zayn can feel his soft curls against his neck and that’s the last thing he registers before he falls asleep.

 

-

 

In the morning, Zayn wakes up to Liam nuzzling his nose against his neck. He can hear Harry and Niall both up, rummaging around through the camp. 

Zayn’s eyes open and he’s met with Niall staring at him. 

 

“Well,” Niall says, grinning suggestively. “You two are a lot closer than we thought.”

 

Zayn flushes and he brings a hand up to scrub over his face. Liam picks that moment to stir as well, stretching his body long ways and nudging his head into the underside of Zayn’s chin. Zayn laughs and sputters as he gets a bit of Liam’s hair in his mouth.

 

“It was cold,” he lies. 

 

Niall quirks an eyebrow, calling the bluff easily. “Sleeping right by the fire is usually cold, is it? In autumn?”

 

Zayn holds his eyes. “Oh, come off it.”

 

Liam laughs sleepily, rolling over and stretching his arms over his head. He watches as Harry amusedly makes breakfast over the fire.

They eat in turns - Liam having his meal while Zayn goes and has a wash and vice-versa. Once they’re all settled up, Liam picks out the two pelts they’d traded for, opting for thick, furry white ones that come from an animal Niall describes as “like a cow but fluffier and bigger”. Liam spends a little time running his fingers through the plush fur, completely pleased. 

They start getting their gear strapped back on when it comes time, Liam pulling his - now dry - shawl over his head and tying it at his neck. He puts the hood up on it right away as Zayn folds up the new pelts and struggles to tuck them into his bag.

 

“Liam, we have too much stuff,” he complains, only for Liam to hear as the other two go on about tracking down a pack of wild dogs they’d been seeing as of late. He glances back into the bag, Liam doing the same.

 

“It’s okay. I was going to leave them the skillet and one of the bedrolls as a gift. You know, for the wine and food and company,” Liam admits, eyes almost asking permission. Zayn nods, giving a smile.

 

“That’s sweet of you, Prince,” he compliments, face a little too close to Liam’s for it to be friendly. Their noses are nearly brushing and it’s still comfortable. 

 

Liam shrugs shyly, reaching into the bag that’s propped between Zayn’s legs and pulls out the items. Neither of them mention that it’s so easy to give away a bedroll because they only use one.

Niall and Harry eye their new treasures fondly after telling them they didn’t have to leave anything else. When it comes time, Liam pulls both of them into their own respective hugs.

 

“You two are maybe the kindest people I’ve ever met. I promise someday I’ll return you the favor,” he vows, pressing a kiss to Harry’s forehead last. Harry is absolutely beaming at the attention and one look to Niall’s face suggests he feels the same. 

Niall and Harry share a look as Liam and Zayn grab their weapons and head off, calling their slightly mournful goodbyes.

 

-

 

They’re well past the hot springs by the time the sun is at it’s peak in the sky. Zayn has the map out, following Liam closely as he looks over it so as to not run into anything in his distracted state. 

 

“What’s the next town then?” Liam asks, turning his head just a fraction to talk back at Zayn.

 

“Rorikstead. Big in fur trade,” Zayn informs, squinting to make out the little markings on the paper.

 

“Right, hence why Harry and Niall are so close by,” agrees Liam. He’s got his sword out, chopping at the dead brush and branches they’re walking through. It’s become dense with it, so thick, that it’s making it hard to walk without tripping. Liam is making a path, however, slicing his blade through it with ease.

“Yeah.”

When they finally make it to a traveled road, it’s already well into the day. There’s a posted sign stuck into the earth with rickety arrows pointing in different directions when they come to a stop at the fork. It’s advising them to take a left down the road if they want to reach Rorikstead - Falkreath being the near opposite direction.

 

“You think we’ll make it by night?” Zayn asks as Liam leads. 

 

He’s sheathing his blade onto his back and stretching the fingers of his sword hand, sore from overuse. 

 

“I would guess, if all the carts are anything to go by,” he answers, eyes following a large horse, pulling a man on an empty wagon as they pass. Down the road, heading for them are a few more scattered men on horses, obviously trying to get back to their homes after selling their goods in the trade town.

 

“I think we should stay in a town tonight - you know. Have a really good night sleep on a real bed before we have to freeze our bollocks off in the mountains,” Liam suggests, sounding oddly sheepish about it as he casts his eyes to the cobblestone path. Zayn ducks to the side just a fraction to try and read his face.

 

“Yeah, if you want to. Of course,” he agrees surely. 

 

“We’ll have enough coin left after renting a room to have a few drinks and dinner,” Liam adds, quickly looking back at him. It’s like a game of sneaking glances. “It’ll be nice.”

 

“That does sound nice.” Zayn rubs at the back of his neck, smiling foolishly and wondering why it was such a big deal to mention renting a room.

He plucks an apple from a thick branch next to him as they pass it, and then another handing the second to Liam. They’re plump and red and perfectly crispy - a nice treat since Zayn is starting to feel a little hungry this long since breakfast. They chew in near silence as Zayn focuses on the crunch of gravel beneath his boots to get him through the long stretch. 

Zayn’s not sure where it comes from, but he’s been thinking about the subject for a little while now. He opens his mouth to speak and Liam turns his head slightly as they walk so he can listen.

 

“So, your father,” he starts, trailing off just slightly because he’s not sure how to word it. “Did you - were you two on good terms when he passed?”

 

Liam frowns lightly, shaking his head. “We never really were. I mostly took care of myself through my whole childhood after my mother...”

 

Zayn remembers the day the queen fell ill - the entire palace mourned for a week straight. If the king had been a sharp blade, she was the gentle, caring hand. Just like Liam. Except she wasn’t the one calling shots, as Liam is now. 

 

“And Louis. Louis took care of me too - we took care of each other. But no, my father never treated me with any respect. We always had our issues.”

 

“I can imagine, with you two being so different and all,” Zayn agrees, nodding. 

 

“But he did care about me,” Liam corrects after a beat of silence, sounding rather melancholy speaking on the subject . “Despite his faults, he made sure I was happy and comfortable. Always.”

 

Zayn hums in agreement, putting on a smile at how Liam’s concern is nearly never ending, even for a man like his father.

It’s then that Liam looks up, spotting Rorikstead in the distance. He finds that it’s a lot less of a town and more of three buildings pushed together on the ride of a rickety road at the base of a mountain. 

A bridge is what leads into it - made of wood and obviously weathered, Zayn is nervous to cross it altogether. He might not have at all, except he watched with his own eyes as a cart and horse passed over it safely. He still eyes the rushing water below them as the boards creak under their feet.

They make their way into the town by the time the sun has set and Zayn can’t help but feel a little uneasy as he looks up at the towering mountains that loom over them. He’s sure they go on for miles and miles and he’s already dreading having to climb them.

Liam snaps him out of it by nudging him with his shoulder, giving him an assuring smile.

Zayn finds he feels pretty out of place in this town. He’s yet to see a man under six foot, and every one of them is built and stocky enough to carry a cow. 

Everyone turns to look at them as they enter the inn and they get their share of chuckles as they make their way to the front desk. A majority of the men are drinking from large metal tankards and a few are eating from cheese and bread plates that have Zayn lusting for some.  
The inn isn’t huge, but it’s two levels, five doors on each side for each level. A fire roars in a pit at the center of the floor, warming the whole room.

Liam holds his head high as he asks for a room from the lady working the desk. She takes his ten pence and points him to a door on the second level, pleasantly enough. 

They make their way up and drop their things onto the floor, eager lose the weight. It’s not anything splendid, but it has one large bed, a wooden table and a wardrobe. The door is lockable as an added bonus. 

 

“Do you want to eat right away?” Liam asks hopefully. “I’m starved.”

 

“Gods, yes,” Zayn agrees, giving a thankful smile. He gets them each a plate as they sit at one end of a long table. They eat like animals, making eye contact once in a while to laugh at each other.

The inn is loud, but they still pick up on it when they hear a pack of men in the corner of the room laughing uncharacteristically loud. Zayn watches Liam’s life flash before his eyes as one says, “Yeah, did you hear that the prince is missing?”

 

Zayn looks over at them nonchalantly from across the room. They’ve all got large swords strapped to their backs, dressed warmly. He thinks maybe they’re hunters or possibly sell-swords. 

 

“Yeah, the little brat just packed up and left off,” another agrees, sounding amused. “Tell you what, if I ever ran into him, I’d probably put the little fuck’s head on my wall.”

 

They all laugh as Liam swallows hard around a sip of alto wine. Zayn growls under his breath in disgust at the group as they continue to verbally bash Liam on his choices. They keep it up for a few minutes until they must get bored of the topic.

The barmaid comes and picks up their plates as Liam lets out a long yawn.

 

“You wanna head up to bed?” Zayn suggests, nudging Liam with his elbow.

 

“Sure, I’m beat. This whole thing has taken a lot out of me,” he agrees, standing and following Zayn up to their room. 

 

They take turns heading downstairs to the toilets to wash up and by the time, Zayn comes back from his trip, Liam is sitting on the edge of the bed, eyes closed like he’s dozing off. 

 

“Do you want me to take the cot?” Zayn asks, gesturing over his shoulder with his thumb at the folded up gadget in the corner. 

 

Liam frowns at him like he’s offended for a second before a little laugh burbles from his lips. “Don’t you think it’s a little late to get shy about sleeping next to each other?”

 

Zayn rolls his eyes fondly as his cheeks flush on their own accord. He takes a step closer towards Liam on the bed.

 

“Besides. I’m so used to it now I think I’d have trouble sleeping otherwise,” Liam teases, eyes crinkling in a smile.

 

Zayn laughs. “So are you going to send for me every night when we get back then?” he jabs back playfully, knocking his knees against Liam’s in a playful manner. 

 

Liam’s face suddenly falls rather serious as Zayn leans over him. “Maybe I will. But for now,” he near-whispers. “Will you keep me company tonight? In the biblical sense.”

 

Zayn finds that breathing is something he may have to relearn as his chest tightens and his skin prickles. _Say something. Say "yes",_ he thinks.

 

“You know, you don’t have to prove to me you’re not a virgin. I believe you.” _No, that was fucking dumb. Do you want to die alone?_ Liam laughs and the rich sounds makes Zayn’s back arch. He’s completely holding his breath now, waiting for Liam to call him an idiot. 

 

“Charming,” Liam says instead, sounding completely unphased. 

 

Zayn quirks an eyebrow at him as Liam pulls him a little closer, their noses touching. Liam is grinning as their lips meet. 

Zayn hums into Liam’s mouth in surprise, stumbling on Liam’s outstretched foot and he has to fight to not land entirely on top of Liam as he trips. He ends up fumbling his way into Liam’s lap, face hot because he’s fucking this up and he doesn’t want to.

Thankfully, Liam just breathes a laugh and scoots up further on the bed, tugging Zayn until he’s perched on Liam’s hips. He shivers as he feels Liam’s fingers working at the ties on his clothing and he helps by slipping the top part of his suit off to expose his chest. 

Liam hums thankfully, eyes raking over the skin in front of him and he leans up to place his lips to the hollow base of Zayn’s throat, running his tongue along the heated flesh. Zayn’s lips fall open an inch as he sucks in a shocked breath.

 

“I want you,” Liam says into Zayn’s skin.

 

His hands find their way into Liam’s long curls, wrapping and unwrapping themselves in the soft locks as he feels Liam’s teeth nip at him.

 

_Okay, second chance to say something smooth. You can do this._

“I’m yours.”

 

_Good. Better._

Liam’s hands, however, are snaking their way down the back of Zayn’s clothing until they have a grips on Zayn’s ass, giving it a squeeze and making Zayn have bite back a lame sounding whimper.

Zayn’s never actually be able to see Liam like this. He’s imagined it a few times, yeah. But not even in his dreams could he have pictured partaking in anything like this. Seeing Liam all bent out of shape is something Zayn doesn’t think he could ever forget. Especially since the prince always seems so innocent to Zayn, makes it harder than ever to come to terms with the fact that it’s Liam rutting up against him in a hungry fashion.

Zayn shivers at the thought, unable to keep his hands from tearing at the buttons on Liam’s shirt. He works them open, one by one and then prompts Liam to shift up as he pulls it off. He doesn’t think he can handle the idea that Liam is able to hold both of their weight as he lifts off the bed for Zayn to remove the article.

Zayn runs his hands down Liam’s sides then, admiring the lines of his pecs and the planes of his subtle abs. 

He works next on the laces of Liam’s pants, embarrassed as they slip out of his shaky fingers a few times before he can grasp them fully and the untie them. 

Liam’s hips buck up on their own accord as Zayn’s knuckles accidentally brush over the outline of his cock and Zayn hears his breathing stutter as they “accidentally” do it again. Zayn stills his fingers, meeting Liam’s eyes and smirking at him as he teasingly runs his fingers over the defined line jutting out against Liam’s leather trousers. he watches as Liam’s eyes flutter and he shivers bodily. 

He looks kind of miserable with his eyebrows tipped up, bottom lip hanging open as he pants.

Zayn laughs under his breath and leans in, catching Liam’s lips with his own as he finally gets the laces loose enough to tug the leather down Liam’s hips. Liam audibly sighs in relief as his own hand wraps around his cock, sliding it through a loose fist a few times. Zayn can really only watch, honestly a little entranced. 

He snaps himself out of it, gently knocking Liam’s hand away and replacing it with his own. 

 

He leans into Liam’s neck, pressing his lips to the vulnerable artery running along the side and speaks against the skin. “Am I going to be decapitated for sleeping with the prince?”

 

Liam, obviously out of breath and in no position to be teasing, replies, “Well, not if you do it right.”

 

Zayn rolls his eyes as he feels shaky hands roll his suit down the rest of the way. It’s tight but they manage to get it off with only minimal embarrassments and as soon as the both of them are naked, Zayn sits himself on Liam’s upper thighs again. This time, however, their cocks are pressed flush together as Liam’s fingers snake around Zayn’s back, dipping into the cleft of his ass and circling his forefinger around Zayn’s rim.

He brings the digit back to his lips to wet it before he presses it in.

Zayn jolts just a tad at the initial intrusion but Liam is kissing along his jawline suddenly and it stops hurting after just a minute of burn. He preps Zayn with the most care he can muster, making sure he’s completely comfortable before lining himself up and easing Zayn onto him. 

He lets Zayn get comfortable and pick his own pace and eventually they work up to a steady rhythm. 

Zayn is panting into Liam’s collarbone as Liam works up into him, meeting him halfway. He can feel Liam’s breath searing into his neck like a steam burn and his thick fingers cupping and gripping into the skin of Zayn’s ass. He can feel the hot pull of Liam inside of him and the friction of Liam’s hand against his straining cock. 

Zayn is bent completely in half then, nosing against Liam’s ear and whimpering as the muscles in his lower stomach tighten and he’s coming in pulses along Liam’s skin, his eyes squeezed shut tight and Liam’s hand gripping the back of his neck to hold him close. 

Liam lets him ride it out as Zayn grinds slow circles into Liam’s hips and Liam groans, nipping his teeth into Zayn’s bare shoulder.

Zayn pulls off, wincing just slightly before getting his hand around Liam’s cock and bringing him off with teasingly slow touches and brushes of the pad of his thumb along Liam’s slit.

Zayn presses sincere kisses against Liam’s lips as they come down, his fingers tangling in Liam’s curls to keep him there. Liam lifts him off to the side with care as he gets up off of the bed for a second. Zayn falls mildly in love with the contours of Liam’s back as he dips to blow out the single candle and he welcomes Liam back into the bed, curling up next to him.

He feels Liam breathe a happy sounding sigh into the crown of his head as he drifts off.

-

When Zayn wakes up, it’s to the air carrying the scent of something sweet and he opens his eyes to find Liam attempting to sneak back into their room with a bowl in his hands. 

He sits up, rubbing at his eyes and his cheeks instantly shading red as he recalls the night before. Liam meets his eyes and reacts similarly. 

 

“I-uh. Breakfast,” he offers, setting the bowl on the bed and placing a spoon next to it as he gingerly sits on the edge. 

 

“Thanks, Liam,” Zayn says, offering him an embarrassed smile. He peeks into the rim of the bowl and his stomach growls at the site of porridge with a quarter sized drop of honey in the middle. He leans over and nudges his nose against Liam’s cheek. “Y’wanna share?”

 

Liam nods, his face heating as Zayn takes the first bite and then hands the spoon to Liam. After a beat, Zayn speaks again. He pulls his legs up onto the bed and tugs the covers over him more fully, suddenly feeling a little under dressed next to a fully costumed Liam.

 

“So. Is it going to be awkward between us now?” Zayn asks, meeting Liam’s eyes. Liam shakes his head, flicking his eyes away as he smiles.

 

“No. Not for me,” he assures, turning again and leaning into Zayn, resting their foreheads together and pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

Zayn’s chest tightens at the gesture and he has to close his eyes to enjoy it for a second longer.

After their breakfast is shared, Liam packs up as Zayn dresses and they exit out into the bar area where one entire corner is filled with ill looking men. Liam easily recognises them as the trash-talking men from the night before and he frowns. 

 

“How odd that they all got sick at the same time,” Liam comments quietly to Zayn as the sound of pained groaning can be heard echoing through the room.

Zayn snorts a chuckle as Liam shuts the door to their room and wait at the front desk. 

 

“If you find that one of your less potent poisons has gone missing, I might know where it went,” he admits and Liam seems to consider before his face falls into a look of horror.

 

“Tell me you did not do this,” he says, trying his best to bite back a laugh.

 

Zayn shrugs, feigning innocence that Liam shakes his head fondly at.

Liam hands the key back to the barmaid when she returns and gives her an extra coin in thanks. Zayn lets Liam lead them out, but just before he’s about to exit, Zayn reaches down, grabbing the hair of one of the ill men and smirking down at him. He’s so worn out that he's practically asleep at the bar, face a little green. 

 

“Shame that big mouth put you right under the weather,” Zayn teases as Liam yips in horror and tugs him along. 

 

“Ta!” Zayn cheers to the bar as a whole as Liam slams the door behind them, face beet red and worried.

-

From Rorikstead they head north until they reach the mouth of a trail that inclines and they walk in peaceful silence until their boots are crunching in a light snow. It’s not necessarily cold due to the stillness of the wind and the path is abandoned enough that they don’t meet anyone on their way up, but traveled enough that it’s well trod and smooth. Zayn’s legs are burning by the time they get to a single, shack looking bar about a third the way up the mountain, shrouded by frost covered trees. 

They share a look and with mutual understanding, they head for it.

Surprisingly enough, the inside of the bar is completely packed full of people - a fire roaring in a pit cut out of the wall and a bar top that runs the whole length around the building. The smell of fresh food is enticing them both, but Zayn enough that he straight knocks into a man about two feet taller than him and twice his width. 

His head is encompassed in the jaws of a bear pelt, the hide falling down his back and a strip of leather tied around his forehead, a short, sandy blonde fringe peeking out under it. Save for the arms of the hide, his chest is completely bare, and only a pair of beat up trousers cover his whole lower body.

Zayn wonders just how a man so scantily dressed survives on the face of a mountain, but it comes to his attention that this man probably spends more than most of his time at this very bar.

He flashes Zayn a cheery grin that spreads across his whole face, smacking a hand to Zayn’s shoulder in a way he’s sure is supposed to be a greeting but knocks him back a little.

 

“Uh-hi,” Zayn breathes as Liam comes up by his side, eyes just as wide as Zayn’s.

 

“Welcome, lads,” the man speaks, eyes squinting with his toothy smile. “Don’t suppose you’re here for a drink?”

 

“Well...,” Liam starts. “Sure?”

 

“Great. Can I get a round for the lost looking kids over here?!” he booms with the man’s accent and the whole bar holds their drinks up in the air, shouting their cheers. A pair of tankards are in Zayn’s and Liam’s hands in seconds, bubbly mead spilling out onto the wooden floor.

 

“We aren’t lost actually,” Liam replies politely. “But thank you.”

 

The man tugs a chair close to him and straddles it. “Not lost, eh? So where are you headed then?”  
The man is obviously a few drinks in, cheeks flushed and smile permanently pressed onto his mouth, though it’s only somewhere midday. 

 

“On our way up the mountain,” Liam supplies. Pausing to take a gulp of his drink. Zayn does the same, as not to seem rude. “Say, you haven’t happened up that way, have you?”

 

The man nods. “Yeah, yeah. ‘Course. Hunt up there all the time. Find all these little hares up there - white as can be. They have the prettiest pelts too - make a lovely little fur coat for a beauty like you,” he says, placing a finger under Zayn’s chin and turning his face to get a better look. Zayn’s entire face goes red as a pleased smile finds his lips.

 

“You’re not from around here, huh?” the man asks, pulling his hand away from Zayn to brush his fingers down Liam’s jawline. “You boys are far too polished for this life.”

 

“We’re not, no,” Liam agrees, nodding as - he too - blushes and preens at the touch.

 

“You’re not from around here either!” Zayn says happily, grinning because it’s just clicked for him. “You’re from Shivering Isles.”

 

The man’s features go soft for a moment as he meets Zayn’s eyes. Out of the corner of Zayn’s vision, he can see Liam staring at him as well.

 

“And how did you know that, little Redguard?” the man asks in awe.

 

“In our travels we met a boy - had the same accent as you and everything,” Zayn explains, offering a small smile. “That’s where he came from too.”

 

The man’s mouth slowly turns up into a genuine grin. “I know that boy too; fair skin, wheat-colored hair? Traded with him once or twice. You’re a smart little thing aren’t you?” he praises, touching Zayn’s face again. Zayn finds himself leaning into the man’s huge hand.

 

“Name’s Breslin, Niall Breslin. You two can call me Bressie though.”

 

“Zayn,” he replies, almost a little dreamily. “And this is Liam.”

 

“Well, I’m pleased as all hell to meet you two. If you  
heading up that way, you’d best be careful. Little bunnies aren’t the only things creeping ‘round up there,” he warns honestly.

 

Liam bites his bottom lip, eyes flicking over to Zayn.

 

“You know, I’d be more than willing to accompany you on your little trip,” Bressie informs and leans over to peck a kiss against the cheek of a girl who pours him another ale. She has to fan her face as she walks away, obviously just as flustered as Zayn.

 

“Are you a sword for hire, then?” Zayn guesses and Bressie nods enthusiastically.

 

“But we haven’t got any coin left,” Liam says apologetically, placing a hand on Zayn’s shoulder.

 

“Well, that’s alright,” Bressie says, smiling deviously and leaning in close enough to Liam that he can feel his breath. “Coin ain’t the only method of payment.”

 

Liam’s eyes snap open wide head ducking to peer out through his curled fringe. “I. Uh,” he mutters intelligently, making Zayn snicker.

 

“I don’t think so Bressie. As much as we appreciate the offer, this is a trip we have to make alone,” he says. “But you’re a really lovely person and it was very kind of you to make us such a...uh- generous offer.”

 

“I hope you lads find everything you’re looking for,” Bressie says, face suddenly turning earnest again as he cups Zayn’s cheek and pecks a kiss to his temple, doing the same to Liam only on the cheek bone. “And if you’re ever around again, I insist you take me up on that offer.”

 

He gives them both a quick flash of teeth as the boys finish up their last drops of mead and head back out the bar door.

 

-

The air only becomes more frigid as they climb and by the time the sun is about to set, Zayn’s lungs are tight and achy from panting. Treading on, they find that the path becomes less traveled, suddenly rocky and slippery in places.

They pass a couple areas where people have little camps, a fire and a single tent set up off the path but Liam suggests they head on until it’s too dark to see. Zayn agrees, bundling up as tightly as he can.

Only when the sun has set completely does Liam pause and turn to Zayn nodding.

 

“You want to get a fire going and I’ll set up our sleeping area?” he asks and Zayn agrees quickly, more than happy to be resting.

It takes him a good half hour to get a fire started, what with the wood being wet from frost and snow, and when it does get going, an incredible amount of smoke is produced. Liam has a comfy looking bed all laid out off to the side, using the hides they’d bought from Harry and Niall as an extra layer under and on top of the bed rolls.

Zayn is shivering as he eats what’s left of their food supply - a piece of cheese Liam had purchased from inn - and they share it, huddled up together around the fire.

 

“I’ve never been in temperatures this cold before,” Zayn comments, words a little slurred as he warms the fingers of his free hand above the flames.

 

“I know. It’s a little worse than I expected,” Liam agrees, munching on his own bit of food. “I guess we should just try to get some sleep.”

 

Zayn nods, starting to climb under the covers and holding them up for Liam to do the same. He scoots in next to Zayn and instantly wraps his arms around him. Zayn would enjoy the moment if he could stop his body from the violent shivers that overtake it every few seconds. It’s so quiet that Zayn can hear the snow fall.

The sleep is not peaceful that night.

-

Zayn’s entire body is aching when he wakes. He sits up, clutching the blankets close as he flexes the muscles of his hands, stiff and sore from where they were clutching onto Liam’s shirt so tightly in the night. 

The movement he’s making causes Liam to stir and before his eyes even open, he lets out an uncomfortable groan. Zayn honestly has to laugh, trying his best to soak up any warmth from the newly risen sun against his frozen cheek. 

 

“Rise and shine, your majesty,” he teases and Liam fights back a smile.

 

Once they’re risen and dressed, Zayn grabs the metal bowl from their rucksack and Liam gets the fire going again. Zayn fills the bowl to the brim with snow and they each take their turns drinking once the water is near boiling, both enjoying the way the hot liquid warms them from the inside out. 

Once they’re awake enough, they pack up camp and Zayn is just closing their bag and slinging it over his back when he looks up to find Liam with his journal open. He's wearing a perplexed expression as his eyes skim the wording on the yellowed pages.

 

“What’s wrong?” Zayn asks cautiously. His fingers are trying to work the buckle on the strap so it fits tighter to his chest so he misses it as Liam’s brows tip up in the middle, a look of worry washing over his face.

 

“Well, it’s just that,” he starts and, sensing the hesitance in his voice, Zayn’s eyes snap up. “This entry says that these berries are supposed to be ‘abundant’. It reads like I’m supposed to be swimming in them up here.”

 

He can’t think of anything else to say, so Zayn settles for, “Oh. Well, we’ll find them, yeah? They have to be up here.”

 

Liam offers a patronizing look. “No, Zayn. I’m not sure about that. The book that mentions them is old. The healer that told me about them when I was young, he must be long since dead too. I’m not even sure they still exist.”

 

Zayn lets his hands fall to his sides, his tongue swiping across his lips and instantly he regrets it as they sting from the bitter cold.

 

“Look, Liam. We have to try. We’re all the way up here,” he explains as his eyes rake out over the waking land below the icy cliffs. He lifts a finger, pointing to a tiny grey blob in the distance. “And look. That’s _your_ city - all the way over there. We’ve come too far for second thoughts - to let that boy die in his bed.”

 

Liam looks for a second as if he’s been struck, eyes widening before he nods. “You’re right, Zayn,” he agrees, an awed expression finding him as their eyes meet again. “I’m glad you’re here with me.”

 

If Zayn’s cheeks weren’t already frostbit, he's sure they’d be shaded pink at how earnest Liam sounds. He’s not expecting it when Liam leans in and pecks a tight but lingering kiss to the point of his cheekbone and he has no time to react before Liam is leading the way further up the winding trail. 

-

Zayn realizes, once they’ve settled down to have a meal - a white hare that Zayn was finally able to hit after a couple of his arrows had been lost in the deep snow - that they haven’t seen a single other person since the day before. Not to mention, the lack of red berries around is deeply concerning to him. He doesn't voice his thoughts, however, because he’s honestly just too cold and hungry to point out the obvious. They both drink another bowl of steaming water for warmth before heading on. 

The path is brutal and it only narrows the farther up they go until it’s only a strip of trodden snow between the drop off of the mountain and a wall of bare rock. 

More than once, the soles of Zayn’s boots lose traction on the icy surface and he’s left in a moment of terror as he tries to maintain his balance. The second time it happens, Liam hooks his arm around Zayn’s waist and decides it’s best to travel that way. 

And if it’s not icy, it’s unstable, and Zayn watches once as the dry snow crumbles right from under the pads of his feet. He scrambles to stay upright, his chest tightening in fear as he clutches onto Liam.

Neither of them say a word until the path gets so tight they have continue on in single file and Liam gestures for Zayn to go first, a strong hand on his back as the ground starts to incline a bit and not once does Zayn forget Liam is behind him, ready to catch him again if he slips.

 

“That’s it, Zayn. Nice and steady - I’ve got you,” Liam assures as he watches Zayn clearly plan out every step from then on, putting pressure into his footing. He’s so preoccupied keeping his eyes on the path that he doesn't look up until he feels Liam stop behind him and even with the wind whipping around them this high up, Zayn can hear the exhausted sounding breath Liam lets out.  
Up ahead, the wall of rock to their left seems to swallow up the skinny path, creating nothing but a dead end and at the very top of the rock - so slick with ice it’s shining like gems - is a hanging vine of blood red berries.

 

“How in the hell-” Zayn starts but Liam is cutting him off.

 

“No, it’s fine. We can do this,” he assures, nodding. It’s started to snow now and he thinks Liam’s never looked more beautiful than with the little white flecks caught in his curls, a few sticking to his lashes. “I’m going to get on my hands and knees and you’re going to get on top and-”

 

“Are you daft?!” Zayn snaps, honestly a little concerned for Liam’s sanity. “I’ll fall!”

 

“You won’t! I would do it but there’s no way you could support me. Zayn this is the only way,” Liam pleads. He carefully shimmies past and makes his way up to the cliff, holding both his hands out for Zayn to take.

 

“See, I’m going to get down,” he explains, already on his knees.

 

“Liam, we’re not going to be tall enough,” Zayn says and Liam looks up, hopeful expression falling. Zayn purses his lips, not sure if he should even speak before blurting, “I’m going to have to get on your shoulders.”

 

Liam’s eyes snap open wide. “You’d do that?” 

 

“Do I have a choice?” Zayn mutters, trying to mask just how nervous he is. 

 

Liam rises back to his height, a hand cupping Zayn’s chilled face. “Of course.”

 

Zayn stares at him for a second, frown deep set into his lips. “You can’t let me fall.”

 

“Never.” Liam promises. 

 

Zayn’s heart starts beating heavy in his chest as Liam pulls the ties on his shawl, letting it fall to the snow and then he turns and sinks to his knees. He tilts his head to the side, looking back and holding a hand out in front of him. It dawns on Zayn then that Liam wants his leg so, holding onto Liam’s head for balance, he swings his right leg over Liam’s shoulder where Liam’s hand is circling it instantly, pressing it tight to his chest. 

 

Zayn, a little wobbly even just in this position, lets out a nervous breath. “Liam,” he says doubtfully.

 

“It’s alright.” Liam’s voice comes out strong and assuring in a way that helps calm Zayn just a fraction. “Just hold onto my head and sit on my shoulders.”

 

Zayn follows his instructions at a snail’s pace, his core muscles uncomfortably tight as he swings the other leg over.

 

“Good, you’re doing so good,” Liam praises. “Just find your balance and hang on because I’m going to stand up.”

 

“Wait,” Zayn barks, voice cracking as his gloved fingers bury into Liam’s curls, trying to control him this way like tugging the mane of a horse. “Liam, I’m scared.”

 

“I’ve got you, really. I won’t let you fall,” Liam promises and in one, swift and painless motion he’s standing, hands pressing Zayn’s legs tight to him where they fall over his chest. Zayn gives a short, squeaky sigh and tries to stay as still as possible. 

They’re only about five feet from the cliff anyway, but the few steps that Liam has to take to it are hell for Zayn. Every tiny movement has his stomach doing flips and all he can think about is being young and watching in awe as the palace guards rode atop those horses that had fuzzy feet the size of serving platters. 

When Liam has moved close enough to the rock wall, Zayn finds himself looking up and instantly he squeezes his eyes shut as his vision blurs. His fingers tangle even tighter into Liam’s hair. 

 

“It’s alright, Zayn. Don’t think about it - just reach up and get a branch,” Liam instructs. Zayn takes a deep breath before opening his eyes again. It takes him a good few seconds to free one of his hands, but once he does, he works it slowly upwards. Even with his arm extended all the way, the berries are still just above his stiff finger tips. 

 

“Liam,” he grunts, fingers wriggling. “I can’t reach. Just a little higher.” 

 

In response, Liam moves forward until the front of his body is pressed against the freezing cold rocks and Zayn feels Liam stretch up onto his toes, shoving into the wall for support. With the added height, the very tips of his fingers brush against one of the plump, hard little berries and Zayn feels himself smile with teeth clenched. 

 

“I almost have it” he exclaims but the pull he gives the branch causes him to teeter and lose his balance. He hears the branch snap above him and he yelps as his hands grip into Liam’s hair again, tugging it painfully. 

 

“Liam, let me down!” he demands, followed by a string of curses, head overwhelmingly dizzy again. 

 

“Okay, alright,” Liam agrees calmly but Zayn can hear him wincing from how tightly Zayn’s fingers around wound against his scalp. Using the wall, Liam dips to his knees and it takes almost a minute for Zayn to work up the courage to climb off. 

Once his feet are back on the ground, Liam is pulling him into his arms, a hand cupping the back of Zayn’s head and pulling it into his chest. Liam is whispering comforting words into Zayn’s hair as his other hand rubs circles into Zayn’s back.

 

“You did so good,” Liam assures and Zayn can hear the pride in his voice, causing his trembling chest to swell a little. “Look at how many you got.”

 

Zayn lifts his head out of the crook of Liam’s shoulder, eyes finding the long vine laying on top of the snow. There’s about thirty little red berries attached to it. 

Liam pulls Zayn’s face back then, gloved thumb swiping under his watery eye as he presses a tight kiss into Zayn’s temple. They stay like that until Zayn has willed his heart to slow and his nausea has ceased. 

-

“We are  
spending another night up here in the cold,” Zayn says and the level of determination in his voice is enough to impress Liam. They’ve managed to find a shortcut down the back of the mountain, and while it’s not slippery, the snow piled onto the surface is deeper than Zayn’s ever seen. He takes a step and sinks in until his knees are completely covered. They’ve only made it about fifty feet down, but this kind of exercise is exhausting and Zayn pauses, doubling over and trying to breathe in the too-crisp air. 

The length they still have to cover before they’re out of the snow is disheartening but Zayn would do just about anything at this point to not have to sleep in the cold again. 

 

“I agree. If we keep going at this pace, we should be able to make it by nightfall,” Liam says hopefully, a warm hand finding Zayn’s back and pressing comfortingly. 

 

Zayn huffs a breathy laugh, smiling over his shoulder. “There is no other option.”

 

“Well, you’d better collect yourself then,” Liam teases, trudging past him. “We have a long way to go.”

 

Zayn’s eyes pop open wide, his hand flying to his bow slung over his chest as he hears the eerie, high howl of a wolf echo through the snowy valley. Liam snickers as Zayn scrambles to follow him.

 

“Can you imagine? Survive this long, going through all we have to get picked apart by a wolf?” Liam laughs, nudging his shoulder into Zayn’s.

 

Eyes shifting around, Zayn frowns, laughing dryly. “I have to be honest, Liam, I’m not seeing the humor in that.”

 

Zayn is startled as Liam stops, causing Zayn to knock into him and suddenly Liam’s hands are cupping Zayn’s chin, pulling him into a rough kiss. The air is knocked right out of Zayn’s lungs as Liam’s tongue flicks against his lips and he just sort of melts, body relaxing. He leans up into the kiss just as Liam is pulling away, grinning.

 

“We’re going to make it back, Zayn. We have the berries,” he says, eyes simply sparkling as he speaks. “I can practically smell the fresh bread I’m going to ask for every morning for the rest of my life.”

He pauses, looking out into the distance with a growing smile. “And Louis’ going to be okay.”

 

Zayn wants to remind him that there’s a whole lot of space between them and Louis, but he doesn’t think he has it in him to disappoint Liam like that. He just closes his eyes and presses a kiss to the corner of the prince’s jaw in silent agreement.

-

As they near the edge of the mountain, the snow seems to dissipate until it’s just a dusting under the soles of their boots and the second Zayn takes a step onto dry dirt, he lets out an obscene sounding groan.

Liam is grinning as he pulls the map from their bag, squinting in the low light of dusk.

Zayn is eyeing the town ahead of them, a community nestled into a colorful valley of trees and surrounded almost completely by a shimmering body of water. From the higher standpoint that Zayn’s at, he can see the lake that flows through the city in channels like arteries. The whole town is seemingly permanently touched by autumn, all the trees cast into bright shades of oranges and yellows. 

 

“This must be Riften,” Zayn comments and Liam makes a sound of agreement. “My two closest friends are from this town.”

 

“Are they guards?” Liam asks, eyebrows raising suspiciously.

 

Zayn smirks and nods because he already knows what Liam’s going to say. He’s heard the story many times. 

 

“We had a bit of a problem with a group of thieves living in the sewers of the town not long ago. They caused a whole lot of trouble - petty crimes that I ignored for a while until finally people started showing up dead.”

 

They’ve come to a stop now so that Zayn can listen intently, a grin on his lips as he hears the prince’s side of the story.

 

“I planned a raid once I found out their location and told my men to capture them all alive and bring them to me. My general at the time said there were piles and piles of stolen goods in the bowels of the sewers where they found them - this ‘Thieves Guild’. There were thirty of them at least, some of them just young boys. I couldn’t see locking them all up for their crimes when they all had such great skills so I gave them all a choice. I’m sure you can guess what that was.”

 

Zayn hums under his breath, pleased. He gestures for Liam to continue. 

 

“The choice was either they would be relocated, all to separate towns where they would work laborious jobs under extreme supervision or they could stay and train as guards. Some chose the first option, but you can guess what the more popular of the two was.”

 

“Ant and Danny - they’ve told me that story at least ten times. They were just fifteen when they came to you. They’re very grateful that you didn’t just off them. They like you. Everyone seems to like you,” Zayn says, a little more dreamy than he had hoped for, he instantly flicks his eyes away. 

 

“Not everyone,” Liam says. “But I’m trying.”

\- 

It’s just dusk as they’re settling into a rented room for the night, Liam starting to pluck the snowberries from their branch and file them into little containers. 

Zayn is just about to toe off his boots when Liam looks at him over his shoulder. 

 

“Don’t take those off yet,” he instructs. “I need a favor - a bit of an odd request.”  
Zayn lifts a brow, arms folding over his chest as he silently prompts Liam to continue.

 

“I need you to sneak into town and find some paper. Write a letter saying that we’re palace doctors being sent by the Prince’s request to help with the ill here. Make sure you seal it with wax and, here,” Liam says, fishing a broach out of his bag with the Falkreath emblem and handing it over. “Press this into the seal.” 

 

“Planning on playing a bit of dress-up, are we?” Zayn teases as Liam rolls his eyes, smiling back.

 

“Go do that and I’ll get us some dinner,” Liam assures, placing a strong hand on Zayn’s shoulder.

 

Zayn returns just as Liam is setting out their meal onto a carved wooden table in their room. The smell of warm, spiced meat hits him like a brick and his mouth is watering as he lays the envelope on the night stand. 

 

“I hope this is okay - it’s all they had at the bar,” Liam explains, tugging off his shawl and letting it fall. Zayn can’t help but notice that the blue velvet fabric looks so soft in contrast to the rough wooden slats of the floor. 

The meal is a bowl of stew each, thick with big chunks of meat and vegetables and a quarter loaf of bread to share. Zayn’s so preoccupied with sitting down and eating that the idea of shedding his boots is discarded until their food - as well as a majority of a jug of wine - is finished off and their dishes lay empty in the low light of a flickering candle on the table. 

They undress down to their undergarments and curl into the bed together with full stomachs, too tired for anything that requires more effort than slinging their arms around each other and falling asleep. 

-

Zayn is woken by a shuffling next to the bed and the first thing he sees is Liam fixing his hair in the mirror above the wardrobe. He must have found his broach somewhere in Zayn’s clothing on the floor, because it’s sitting on his left breast, the shiny silver glistening as the morning light from the window hits it.

Zayn sits up in bed, pulling the covers up to his bare chest and chuckles under his breath.  
“So presentable,” he says, meant to sound like a tease but somehow it's lost as the words come out. 

 

Liam gives him a smile, ducking to fix the ties on his boots. “Morning,” he greets, voice soft in the quiet room. “How did you sleep?”

 

Zayn draws in a breath, rubbing the back of his neck. “Like a baby, actually. A little sore though,” he admits as the muscles of his legs throb a bit. “Where are you going?”

 

“To the hospital,” Liam says like it’s obvious. 

 

“ _Without me_?” Zayn shuffles to get out of bed, grabbing at his clothes. 

 

Liam shrugs. “I figured you’d wanna sleep.”

 

“Well, you’re wrong,” Zayn quips, smiling as he hops out of bed and starts tugging the legs of his suit on immediately. “You couldn’t pay me to miss this.”

-

Riften is gorgeous. The whole city is seemingly built over the water in layers. It’s well populated with a marketplace where people are selling their goods and well-built houses lining the corners of the town. Each and every street is littered with fallen leaves like confetti in yellows and oranges, yet the town is small enough that Zayn is able to take most of it in as they make the short trip through to the hospital.

It’s with conviction that Liam’s knuckles rap against the door and it isn’t a full twenty seconds later that it’s being swung open by a lady, long dark hair pulled into a braid down her left shoulder. She blinks up at them before her expression warms into a modest smile.

 

“Can I help you gentlemen?” 

 

“I need to speak to the person in charge.” Liam informs politely. The girl wipes her hands on the apron hanging off her waist, leaving behind a small smear of blood.

 

“Well, that would be me today. The doctor is out,” she replies as Liam reaches into his shirt for the envelope and presents it to her. She turns it over in her hands and when her brown eyes catch the Falkreath seal pressed into the paper, they widen. She breaks the wax apart and pulls the letter out, eyes skimming it. 

 

“It says the Prince sent you,” she says like a question. “But he’s been missing for weeks.”

 

Liam and Zayn share a look and quick on his feet, Zayn says, “We wouldn’t know. It’s taken us at least that time to walk here from the city. Is the Prince alright?”

 

She shakes her head, looking a little forlorn. “Nobody seems to know.” She gives a little sigh and straightens out the skirt of her dress. “But if you think you can help here, you’re more than welcome to come in.”

 

She opens the door for them, gesturing them inside.

 

“Alright, let’s go person-by-person,” Liam requests. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

 

The nurse nods, tucking the letter into a drawer. There are eight beds in total and only one is left unoccupied. She explains to Liam that most of the patients have simple problems like stomach pains or severe headaches and are making recoveries, but one man at the back of the room catches Liam’s eye. 

He’s laying in bed, blankets tucked up to his chin with plum colored sunken skin around his sleeping eyes.

 

“Tell me about him.”

 

“Well, he started out with just a fever and then he became so weak he couldn’t even stand. He’s been so cold lately we had to move him to the bed closest to the fire,” she says sadly. Liam thinks back to when Louis has first caught the fever. What the nurse is describing is chillingly familiar.

 

“How long?” Liam asks, voice cracking. Zayn peers over at him brows tipped up in concern as Liam clears his throat. “How long has he been like this?”

 

“He’s been in here for about four months, but,” the nurse starts, pausing as she bites her lip.

 

“But what?” Liam demands, a little sharper than he’d meant to. Zayn’s hand latches gently onto Liam’s forearm, his thumb rubbing into the jutting bone on Liam’s wrist.

 

“But we don’t think he’ll make it much longer, sir. His health was declining slowly at first, but about a week ago, he stopped talking, stopped eating. He hasn’t woken up in three days. It’s like he’s dead inside.”

 

Liam’s voice is thick as he says, “Find me a pestle and mortar and a blade.”

 

She looks up at him questioningly until his eyes fall on her. She must sense just how serious he is because she instantly scurries off. When she returns, she places all that he requested onto the man’s bedside table. 

 

Liam hands her a vial of milky liquid. “This should help those with stomach problems. Feed a drop or two to patients each meal until the nausea is gone. For those with headaches,” Liam says and fishes another vial of powder from his bag. “A sprinkle of this with plenty of water should take away the pain.”

 

She blinks at him a few times until he offers her a tight smile. “Go. I need some time to treat this man.”

 

Hesitantly, she steps away, eyes lingering on the patient as she heads for the door. “Good luck, doctor.”

-

Liam pulls up a chair and and then one for Zayn as he sits himself down. He pulls his journal from his sack and flicks through the yellowed pages until he comes across the section he’s looking for. 

It takes him a few minutes to grind down a couple berries, as he does so with care. He works them into the dish until he has a pinkish paste. He then grabs the blade from the bedside table and tugs the blankets back to reveal the patient’s arm. It isn’t until then that he notices just how blueish the man’s skin has turned.

 

“Liam, what are you doing?” Zayn asks, sounding worried. 

 

“She said he hasn’t woken up in days so there’s no way I can feed it to him. This is really the only other option,” Liam explains calmly. He can understand Zayn’s concern but he puts it out of his mind as the blade drags across the patient’s arm, slicing a six inch incision in the skin. Liam takes a rag from a basket that’s set on the floor by the fireplace and dabs at the blood pooling around the cut as his other hand works to scoop some of the paste from his bowl. He applies it over the cut until it’s layered on and then wraps the rag around it, paste pressed into his skin. 

 

Despite the pain, the unconscious man’s face stays completely neutral. 

 

Liam leaves the hospital with orders for the nurse to watch the patient closely but to not disturb the bandage. He informs her of where they’re staying and to come get Liam immediately if anything changes. 

 

Feeling somewhat exhausted, they make their way back to the inn and Liam pays the innkeeper for another night. 

-

It’s still dark out the next morning when there’s a frantic sounding knock on their door and Zayn shuffles off the bed, grabbing Liam’s sword as he slowly opens it. 

The nurse is standing on the other side, her big brown eyes looking a little wet as he rushes out, “I don’t mean to bother you, but it’s important.”

 

Zayn turns and gives Liam a look as he dresses. 

 

“What’s going on?” Liam asks as Zayn opens the door wider so Liam can see her. “Is something wrong?”

 

“No, no. He’s- the man is awake,” she informs, sounding rather small as her hands find her mouth.

Liam is rushing to her side, heading out the door as he turns and quietly instructs Zayn to get dressed and meet him in the hospital. Zayn nods and shuts the door behind him, quickly working his clothes on. 

 

He isn’t even a full two minutes behind Liam, so he gets to catch the tail end of what the nurse is saying when he arrives.

 

“But I got you as soon as I could after he woke,” she assures.

 

“He looks severely dehydrated,” Liam says as he walks over to the man’s bed, offering him a jug of water. Liam lets him drink until he’s panting for air, his light brown hair stuck to his sweaty forehead.

Liam reaches down and takes the man’s arm as he rests back against his pillow, looking rather drained from that little bit of effort. The rag is removed to show where the berry paste had dried and it crumbles away as Liam inspects the cut. It isn’t completely healed, but it’s a lot farther than it should be considering how deep Liam had dipped the blade into the man’s skin. 

Liam sucks in a anxious breath, handing the used rag to the nurse as Zayn closely watches from a few feet away. Shakily, Liam finds himself lifting a hand, his stomach doing a flip as he presses the back of it against the man’s damp forehead. 

A good ten seconds later, Zayn can’t wait out the anticipation. “Well?” he prompts and the nurse looks over at him like she had forgotten he was there.

 

“It’s gone. There’s no fever,” Liam breathes, his expression remaining neutral as he soaks in exactly what this new information means. He turns to Zayn, eyes watering just a little as he grabs Zayn’s hand and leads him to the door. 

 

“Wait, sir!” the nurse calls. “You have to stay, the doctor is going to want to meet you.”

 

“I would if I could, I swear, but I have somewhere I have to be,” Liam informs with such a finality that the nurse’s shoulders slump and she lets them go without any more of a fight. 

 

Liam hasn’t said a word and by the time they reach their room, Zayn can’t take it. 

 

“Liam?” he says, gently tugging his hand from Liam’s grip to place it on his shoulder instead. 

 

When the Prince turns to him, he looks like he doesn’t really know what to say. His eyes are a little red and Zayn quickly shuts the door before reaching out and tugging Liam into him. He presses Liam’s face into his chest and lets him just breathe for a moment. 

 

It’s a good minute later when Zayn hears him say, “He’s going to live.”

-

They hit the road and they’re out of Riften just as the sun has risen in the sky. Having hardly stopped for a rest all day, Zayn’s stomach is growling loudly by the time the night is starting to blanket the landscape. 

 

“Liam, we have to stop,” Zayn finally complains and rolls his eyes as Liam shoots him a near-accusatory look . “Don’t give me that, we need to sleep tonight. Let’s find a place to camp and get some food in us.”

 

Liam nods in agreement, although still a little pouty and they follow the river down into a lush, green valley where the water spills over the rocks and into a waist-deep pool. 

It would seem they aren’t the first to make a camp of the area, as there’s already a little pile of ashed wood from a fire with a few big rocks pushed close to it like chairs.

 

After dinner is picked through and the rest is thrown into the fire, Zayn watches out of the corner of his eye as Liam stands from his spot and pulls the strings on his robe until it flutters to the dirt by his feet. His fingers work swiftly to untie the laces on his trousers, peeling them down and kicking them off. Once he's completely naked, he turns his head to peek at Zayn over his shoulder. The corner of his mouth quirks up at the corner in a flirty smirk just before walks into the water until it’s up to his chest. 

Zayn sits back on his makeshift chair, crossing one leg over the other. He's content for the moment to just watch as the silver moonlight dances with the warm glow of the fire across the dark water and over the expanses of Liam’s bare skin, illuminating and defining the lines of his muscles.  
Liam dips his head into the water, curls coming undone into wet strands as he emerges again, wiping a hand over his face.

Zayn is awashed suddenly in emotion, the feeling swallowing him up from the inside out. He cannot believe for a moment that he’s here, seeing Liam like this, literally glowing in front of him. 

For a split second Zayn remembers being fifteen. It was a Spring Festival and the king always hated parties, but the queen had loved them, so he begrudgingly upheld the tradition in her honor. The palace courtyard had been decorated with streamers and flags, heaps of fresh flowers placed everywhere - tucked into every nook and cranny. The whole city smelled like cherry blossoms. All of the city subjects gathered in the palace to eat a feast and dance to music. Zayn remembers something catching his attention out of the corner of his eye and he had looked up to where the king and young Liam and Louis had been eating a roasted pig by the king’s request. As Zayn looked up at Liam, the prince had been looking right back at him. It was only for a fleeting moment, but Zayn remembers it perfectly. He remembers how important he felt in that moment under Liam’s eyes. 

And now, that young prince is all grown into his once awkward limbs, face all full and flush with hands big enough to pin Zayn down. And he's finally begging for Zayn's attention with his big, chocolate eyes.

 

“Come in here,” Liam calls, and even where Zayn is seated a few feet away, he can see Liam’s eyebrows tipped up in confusion. He’s probably wondering why Zayn’s looking at him like he just saw Liam personally hang the stars in the sky, so Zayn uncrosses his legs in a delicate motion and stands. 

He doesn’t waste time trying to be sexy as he undresses, he just runs nervous fingers through his hair, now shaggy from the long trip. As he submerges himself into the water, a shiver runs up his spine, leaving bumps up his arms. The water is lukewarm at best in the mid autumn weather and he find himself reaching out and lacing his fingers between Liam’s waiting ones. He’s quick to pull Liam close, his body considerably warmer everywhere they’re touching.

It’s Zayn that first presses their lips together, slow and timid like he’s searching for something there and Liam’s breath comes out warm over his face. He brings a hand up to hold Liam’s jaw still, fingertips digging into the flesh as he work’s Liam’s mouth open with his tongue. 

Liam’s fingers work him open in a different way and Zayn’s arms are slung so tightly around Liam’s neck, a crowbar couldn’t pry him away. He sucks a purple bloom of a bruise across Liam’s clavicle as Liam’s brings him off the edge, whispering nice things directly into Zayn’s ear. When Liam comes, it’s with Zayn’s mouth wrapped around him, sitting in the sand with gentle, guiding fingers through black locks.

They sit there on the shore, foreheads pressed together while they catch their breath. When they finally move, their bodies are mostly dry from the cool air. Zayn drifts off to sleep with the distinct smell of cherry blossom in his memory.

 

-

Zayn hadn’t been dreaming. It’s strange for him, because for the first couple moments of the morning, he usually can recall exactly what he had been seeing behind closed eyelids. But this time when he wakes up, the first and only thing he knows is that his head hurts. The pain starts above his ear and shoots sharply across his face and down his jaw. It hurts enough that it brings tears to his eyes and when he first opens them, his vision is blurred, only colors registering to him. 

His eyes slowly start to clear but his mind stays cloudy, enough that when he pushes himself up from where he was laying face first, he doesn’t know where he is or why he’s there for a moment. The pain isn’t helping clear his head because with every sharp pulsing throb, his whole body tenses. 

After a few fuzzy minutes, Zayn is able to gather that he's been staring down at a large red blot in the sand where he had been laying. His fingers brush over the crimson stain and when he pulls them away, it hits him that he’s touching blood. The same digits reach up to his head and as he fumbles against the wound, his hands shake from the instant sting through his scalp, rough enough to make his teeth grit together. 

He is able to muster enough strength to sit up on his knees and look around. He’s outside by the water where they fell asleep last night but he didn’t fall asleep in the wet sand, he fell asleep in the bedroll. 

His eyes rake over the camp and it only confuses him. The bedroll he’d been looking for is laying over where the fire had been, parts of it burned up by the flames. The rest of the camp is just as torn apart; items pulled out of the bag and thrown around. 

His eyes glance upward to the sky, the sun already past the half point and it hurts his already impaired vision but he can’t stop staring. Why is it so late in the day? 

And where is Liam?

Zayn’s stomach drops, gasping in a breath that’s so sharp it stings his throat. 

_Where is Liam?_

His heart is pounding out of his chest as he wobbily tries to stand and he’s determined enough that the pain in his head doesn’t stop him now, no matter how sharp it is. He’s breathing hard and fast and his mind is suddenly working a lot faster than his body can.

There are multiple sets of footprints stamped into the ground around the camp and two deep gashes in the soft earth. Whoever came into their camp must have taken Liam. They must have had to drag him - he must have put up a fight. They would have had to knock Zayn out. 

His eyes flick to the blood spot in the sand where he was lying. 

They must have hit Zayn on the head hard enough to knock him out cold and then rolled him there into the sand where he woke up. As he’s realizing all of this, his eyes are darting around to find only what he needs, packing it back up into the bag. 

His heart sinks a fraction as he comes across his bow, snapped in half in the dirt. He dips down and runs his fingers over the old wood, eyes closing for a second as he says his goodbyes. He leaves it there, figuring that it’ll only slow him down to carry it along now, and grabs Liam’s sword again, unsheathing it to check for damages. He straps it to his waist when he finds none, slinging the newly lightened pack over his back. He sets out in the direction the drag marks lead, trying to ignore the throbbing in his head. 

He is able to follow the trail of hurried footprints that, every now and again, turn into scuffs in the dirt like the party was struggling to keep going. A small swell of pride builds in chest as he figures Liam put up one hell of a fight if the disturbed and torn up landscape around the tracks has anything to say about it. Just when he thinks he’s losing the trail, he’ll see a freshly snapped branch or a trampled bush and the tracks will show up again not far after that.

He doesn’t recognise the area he’s wandered into, but he’s in a valley of hills, the dirt loose and the foliage dry and crunchy beneath his boots. He is just thinking that the bastards must have had to walk all night long as he can see a wall rising over the next hill. 

Dark, dirty bricks make up the perimeter fence. They rise far too high to climb in the daylight without being seen. There are three towers on the building disrupt the horizon and the tallest one has a long, metal rod sticking out the top, a jet black piece of torn fabric on it that makes Zayn frown. 

 

“He just had to get captured by bandits,” he whispers under his breath, tucking himself behind a bank of rocks as he spots a handful of guards standing by a thick metal gate.. They’re all dressed in mismatched armour, Zayn figures that they collected bits and pieces from their victims over time. He curses to himself as he gets comfortable in his position and thinks _They should have killed me when they had the chance_. because once nightfall comes, they are in for one hell of a surprise. 

-

 

Just as promised by the universe, night comes before too long. The first stars are just starting to peek out through the blanket of darkness as Zayn is tugging his face mask over his nose and mouth, hoping to stifle the steam rising past his lips as he breathes, knowing it would catch the moonlight and give him away. 

He peeks his head out from behind the rock embankment, eyes raking over the bandit camp. There are about five different men guarding the entrance gate and a smattering of them standing along top the encasing wall, bows and arrows tucked along their backs. He figures it’s pretty clear that he’s not getting in through the front, and with the amount of movement along the wall, scaling it would be risky.

He tucks his backpack into the rocks before slowly creeping closer to the tower, keeping low to the ground until he reaches the wall. He watches as the guards stand for a few minutes in their places and then pace around the top of the perimeter fence like clock work. From where he is, he can hear a few of them chatting as the glow from a fire sets strips of light through the crumbling bricks of the wall.

They’re mostly talking nonsensically and from the sounds of soft metal clinking, he thinks they must be eating supper. 

He frowns to himself, gently rubbing the gash on his forehead beneath his hair as it’s starting to throb again and he’s thinking about how odd it is that these bandits are so organized. Usually any bandit stories he’s ever heard of entail a lot of useless show’s of power between uneducated men. He didn’t think they’d know well enough to eat in shifts and keep the whole wall guarded this well. 

He is disrupted by the sound of shuffling on the wall, just above his head as a guard starts to move again, kicking tiny pieces of rock off the wall and into Zayn’s hair. He holds his breath, shutting his eyes and willing his stomach to quit churning as he, ever-so-slowly, creeps along the bottom of the wall in the opposite direction.

It takes him hours to circle the wall, both because it’s so large and also because he’s moving at a snail’s pace. He finally ends up back at where he started as the moon is high in the sky. It’s not until he feels a drop of water hit his nose that he realizes just how clouded the sky is and just like that, rain. 

It’s freezing cold as the breeze starts to hit his wet clothes and he has to pull his face mask off as water starts to hinder his breathing. He’s trying to weigh the pros and cons of the rain when he hears it. 

More than a trickling and less than a roar of collected water rushing. He follows the sound only about ten feet to his left and about twenty feet away from the wall to find a large sewer pipe jutting out from the lip of the hill. He can’t help but breathe a sigh of relief, even though he doesn’t know if this will help him, he’s glad to have a lead of some sort. 

The gate on the drain is gritty from rust as Zayn tests how sturdy it is and he’s shocked to find that it lifts right up. It lets out a low groan as it’s moved but he’s confident the sound is lost in the weather. 

He holds his breath as he slips into the pipe. It’s a snug fit, as he only has room to crawl on his hands and knees and it’s pitch black inside. The sludge of mud, and god knows what else, comes up to his wrists and he struggles to keep moving forward as the rain washes past him. The stench of old, rotten earth is so strong it’s bringing tears to his eyes.

He crawls until he can see a faint light growing, illuminating the way but he forces himself to not look down, scared to identify what he’s actually been crawling through. He finds that the light is coming in patches through a grate in floor of one of the towers in the camp. It’s drier near the end of tunnel, only damp from being underground and he prays that the worst of this rescue is over. 

He pauses, just out of the light in the tunnel as he listens for any sign that the room above is occupied, but he hears nothing at all so he shifts directly under the grate and peers up through. He can’t see much, but the only thing providing light for the room is a candle in the corner on a barrel of what he assumes is mead. 

He tests the grate and his heart nearly stops when he finds that it won’t budge. He presses on it again, and...nothing. He is just about to panic when he rises to a crouch and shoves all the weight he can into it with his shoulder. It lets out a loud, metal  
and a gasp leaves Zayn’s lips as the noise echoes through the stone room. He ducks back away from the light, farther down the tunnel and waits to be discovered, but no one ever comes looking for him. 

He gives it some extra time just to be sure before he tries the grate again and this time, he’s able to lift it though it’s weight makes his muscles strain. He winces at the scraping noise as he pushes the steel out of his way and he hurries to exit the tunnel, shoving the lid back into it’s place.

At the early hours of the morning, he’s dripping wet and exhausted as he holds his hands by the candle. It’s well melted, wax spilled out and running over the lip of the barrel. The room seems to be a storage area, crates, boxes, and barrels stacked along all of the walls and up in the rafters. His eyes land on burlap sacks, one of them full to the top with apples and he lurches forward, grabbing one and immediately biting into it. 

It’s a bit softer than the fresh, crispy ones at the palace but he doesn’t care. He hasn’t eaten a thing today and this apple tastes like four course meal. He wonders if they’re feeding Liam. He wonders if Liam is even still here or even alive and he has to shake the thought immediately from his mind. 

He tosses the core of the apple back into the bag and slips over toward the door, pressing his ear against it. He doesn’t hear anything on the other side so he cracks it open. The hall is dark, but not as dark as the tunnel was - he can see the shapes of the twisting corridors, the faint sound of dripping bouncing off the stone.

With a nervous breath escaping his lips, he slips out of the door and makes his way down the hall, pausing every few moments to listen for anything alarming. He can hear a very faint whistling coming from down the hall and just as he stops to identify what it is, the sound of foot prints coming up from behind him start to grow. 

His eyes dart around for a place to hide as heart pounds and he can see the light from a candle filling the hall. He ducks behind the only thing around - a end table shoved against a wall - and prays no one sees him in the dark. 

A guard rounds the corner holding a handle and Zayn is sure he’s about to be found but the man slips right past him, pausing at the end of the hall to fiddle with his jacket and then keeps moving. 

For a moment Zayn thinks his heart is going to stop, but it kicks back up as he rests his head back against the dirty brick and just waits there for a moment until he can breathe again. Tears are about to threaten his eyes as he realizes he has no idea where Liam is and he's sure the sun must be rising outside. Guards will be filling these corridors in a couple hours at most and he has no idea where he’s going. 

He allows himself just a moment longer to breathe until he’s sure he’s not about to cry before pushing himself shakily from the wall as he stands. 

He wanders around for at least another hour before he finds himself peering into a large room. There’s a guard asleep in a chair, arms folded over his chest and legs propped up on a crate as he snores away. The faintest sound of clacking is coming from an open door across the room and it almost sounds like a dog pacing across the floor. 

As quietly as he can manage, Zayn sneaks across the room, sticking to the corners as to not wake the sleeping man. As he slips into the next room, he can see rows of cages, most of them filled with huge dogs, panting and squirming around. The closer he gets, he realizes that the dogs are actually wild wolves and they start to tense as they notice him. The smell hits him next, the cages left filthy and Zayn reaches up to plug his nose. 

 

“Zayn?” 

 

It’s such a quiet sound, Zayn isn’t even sure he’s really heard anything. He’s already on edge so at first he writes it off as him imagining things until - 

 

“Oh gods, Zayn that _is_ you.”

 

Zayn perks up, recognizing the voice as Liam’s and his eyes dart around. He finally spots the prince huddled in a cage of his own, his face scuffed up and bruises up and down his arms. He is dirty head to toe as he shuffles to the front of his cage.

 

“Oh, fuck, Liam,” Zayn breathes as he rushes over to meet him, grabbing Liam’s hand. Liam’s just starting to cry as their fingers interlock. “What happened?!”

 

“Listen, Zayn, there’s no time to talk. You have to get the keys from the guard before he-” 

 

Liam’s sentence ends in a yelp as Zayn is grabbed from behind by the hair and forced to his feet. 

 

“Liam!” he yells as he being dragged away from the bars and then out of the room, Liam yelling through grit teeth in his cage. 

 

“Where are you taking me?” he demands, trying his best to put up a fight but he’s met by a second guard with a punch to his gut so hard it knocks the breath right out of him. The second guard takes his other arm, shoving him along. He pushed through the halls and up a couple flights of stairs but it all happens so fast, he barely knows what’s happening. 

At the top of the last flight of stairs is a massive set of doors that are squealing as they’re opened by two more men. 

Immediately upon entering the room, Zayn is shoved to the ground. He put his palms out to stop the fall and feels a sharp sting as they scuff against the floor. He’s trying to catch his breath as best he can as he hears a voice say, “Look at me” and his face is being lifted up by a fist in his hair again.

He has to do a double take as can’t believe his eyes the first time. 

The room is heaped full of gold coins. They litter the floor in piles, shining as they catch the light. If there were such a thing as dragons, they would live here upon these vast treasures. Up a couple of steps is an alter displaying four women sitting in thrones of various materials. They are dripping in furs and jewels, though all four look a little rough like they’re used to hard living. 

 

“Women bandits?” Zayn questions without thinking and with a wave of her hand, the woman with white-blonde hair is signaling one of the guards to give Zayn a slap in the face. After he recovers from the shock of it, he sits back up straight on his knees and spits out a smattering of blood onto the floor.

 

“Speak when you’re spoken to, yeah?” another of the women suggests. Her skin is dark and her hair cascades from her head in black curls. “What are you doing here?”

 

Zayn scoffs at her, his eyes catching on a ruby the size of a cherry hanging from a chain, cradled between her breasts. She’s wearing nothing but a fur robe and jewels. 

 

“She just said speak when you’re spoke to, Rat,” yet another one of them snaps, flicking her auburn hair off her clavicle to reveal a waterfall of jewels hanging from her earlobes. 

 

“No, it’s okay, Jesy. I know why he’s here,” the first one says. “You’re here to retrieve your boy.”

 

Zayn remains silent, staring into her chocolate eyes. 

 

“It doesn’t matter though because you can’t have him,” the blonde says, voice full of glee as he sits up in her throne. “Because we’re selling hi-”

 

“Perrie, hush,” Jesy scolds, sipping at a shiny goblet. “Don’t need to show all of our cards.”

 

“Oh, I’m sure he can figure it out,” the fourth one says. She’s in a red, velvet gown, her delicate feet poking out from under the fabric where she has them rested on the arm of her chair. “We’re going to sell him.”

 

“Selling him? Why?” Zayn asks, smiling to hide how aware he is that this is a horrifying situation. He can’t help but be a little amused though that this whole bandit clan seems to be run by four gorgeous girls. Greedy girls.

 

“Oh, don’t play stupid,” the fourth one says again. “We could get such a hefty price for the young prince.”

 

“You must be mistaken,” Zayn assures but even he can hear his voice waver slightly. “No prince here.”

 

“I ought to come down there and hit you myself, you little pig. Don’t you lie to me,” Jesy threatens, pointing her finger down at Zayn. “And don’t think there’s not a price on your head too. One of the prince's own guards kidnaps him in the night? You did us a nice favor coming here by yourself. You weren’t a priority so we left you behind but you just delivered yourself to our fucking doorstep!” She’s laughing by the end of her bit as the other three smile. 

 

“Yes, what a great bit of luck,” the blonde, Perrie, agrees, flashing her white teeth at him in a shark-like grin. “Maybe we can just keep this one as a slave though. He’s awfully pretty.”

 

“I’d rather die,” Zayn says matter of factly, starting straight into her eyes. 

 

“You’d rather die than live as a servant for us?” the one in the velvet dress clarifies.

 

Zayn gives a nod, smirking out of disgust. “You’re not my king. You can have all the coins in the world, but you’re still nothing to anyone but these bandits.”

 

The four ladies share a look and the darkest one says, “So then you shall.” 

 

The guard to Zayn’s right draws his sword, the sound of it coming unsheathed rings in Zayn’s ear. He won’t admit that he’s scared. He can’t bring himself to show fear in this moment, only a pang of disappointment that they had made it this far to be offed by a clan of bandits. 

The guard lifts the sword high but before he can bring it down on Zayn’s neck, one of the girls is saying, “But not yet.”

 

The guard lowers his arms in an instant, fingers roughly finding their way back to restrain Zayn. 

 

“We’ll have you watch your prince be sold off for gods knows what and then we’ll do away with you ourselves. Nothing is as valuable as the joy it would bring me to watch you die,” Jesy says, her voice stone cold. They all nod in agreement. 

 

“Just let me kiss him first, Leigh,” Perrie pleads, taking Zayn by shock. Leigh nods back, smiling at her warmly as her black curls bounce. 

Perrie stands from her throne. The satin of her dress is so thin that Zayn can see every line of her body. She’s nearly prancing to him and when she’s stood in front of him, the bandit guards pull him to his feet again. His muscles protest the action and the guards clutch on to him even tight as he starts to slump.

 

“Show me what a prince followed you all the way across this kingdom for,” she teases as her slender fingers press into his cheeks. Her skin is so milky it looks almost translucent in the candle light. 

Zayn smiles coyly at her, thinking that she might be the last person he’ll ever get to kiss so when she leans in, he meets her halfway. It lasts for only a moment before he’s tugging away and throwing his forehead into her face with all he the strength he can muster with his hands held behind his back. 

She lets out a pained squeal as her hands fly up to her nose and come away covered in blood. The room erupts in horrified gasps and yelps but Zayn isn’t allowed to stay and enjoy what he’s done before he’s being carried back out of the room. The last thing he sees is the three other girls rushing towards a whining Perrie and the satisfaction Zayn feels is priceless. 

 

-

 

He’s pushed and shoved back to into the dog room where he’s picked up by a guard and thrown into a waiting cage. His back hits the metal bars so hard he swears he can hear his vertebrae cracking. He opens his eyes again just in time to see a guard crawl into the cage after him, fist cocked. 

 

“Zayn!” Liam yells and for a brief second, Zayn is proud that Liam sounds more angry than scared, but he doesn’t have long to celebrate before he’s being punched in the ribs - once, then twice. 

He tries not to cry out - knowing his attacker would count that as a win - but it hurts so badly he lets a whimper escape his lips. 

 

“Get off of him!” Liam is growling, shaking at the bars of his cage. “I’ll fucking kill every one of you when I get out of here!”

 

The guard stops for a moment, turning around and pointing a finger at Liam. “Shut the fuck up, or you’re next,” he warns. 

 

“You won’t hurt me,” Liam pushes, smirking a bit. “They told you you can’t.”

 

Zayn makes the mistake of smiling as well, swelling with pride that Liam is being so defiant. He doesn’t think he’s ever heard Liam even come close to cursing but here he is, fists clenched so tight around the metal bars, his knuckles are bleach white.

 

The guard grins back at Liam, looking like a child who realizes they’ve just won. “No, but I can hurt him.”

 

Zayn is punched again, this time in his stomach. He retches but nothing comes up until the guard hits him again in the same spot. The only thing he has in him is a bit of apple and suddenly it’s on the floor. Zayn tries to catch his breath, heaving in air the best he can before a final blow lands to his jaw, causing his teeth to nip at his tongue. It’s then he lets out a cry of pain and he doesn’t even know which area of his body to focus on. His head is pounding again from where he was knocked out the day before and he’s starting to feel blood trickle down his face again. 

The man spits on him, chuckling as a final kick lands on Zayn’s leg. The kick itself doesn’t hurt that bad, but it jostles his - surely broken - ribs enough that he whimpers. The man leaves him then and he slumps over against the bars of his cage as Liam promises him that everything is going to be okay. 

 

-

 

“Are you awake?” 

 

Zayn’s eyes flutter open and he lets out a gasp as one of the wolves has it’s snout poked through the bars of Zayn’s cell, sniffing guardedly at him as drool drips from it’s barred teeth. 

 

“Liam?” he calls. It’s pretty dark but he can see the outline of another man in the cell across from him. His voice is croaky and he tries to clear his throat but everything aches.

 

“I’m here, Zayn. It’s okay,” Liam assures and his voice sounds so strong and promising that Zayn believes it for a moment. “Are you hurt?”

 

“I’ll be fine. Are you okay? Have they hurt you? Have you been eating?” Zayn asks, tipping his head back against the bars again as a wave of pain washes over him.

 

“I’m okay. They haven’t hurt me too much. These four women - these terrible women - told these guards that they can’t hurt me,” he replies. “But I haven’t been given anything to eat, no.”  
His next words sound a little ashamed. “It’s odd how a person can go from eating palace breakfasts to slurping dirty rain water off the floor so quickly.”

 

Zayn squeezes his eyes shut, Liam’s words hitting a nerve. 

Just as he’s about to assure Liam that everything is alright, that he has nothing to be ashamed of, a bandit stomps his way in from the hall.

 

“You little fucks better shut up. If I hear another word out of either of you, I’ll beat you senseless, orders be damned,” he threatens, kicking some water from the floor into Zayn’s eyes. It stings for a moment, but he doesn’t show it as the guard leaves the room. 

They sit in silence for the rest of the night. 

\- 

When morning comes, so does a new guard and this one is carrying a tray of raw meat. Zayn is disgusted that his stomach growls when he sees it, especially since it looks to be whatever the clan wouldn’t cook and eat. The dogs in the cages around them start to stir and a chorus of barking erupts as the guard makes a show of teasing them with the meat. Once all of it is discarded, the guard spits on the ground, giving Zayn a wink and exiting again.

Out of the corner of his eye, Zayn watches as Liam wrestles with the idea of reaching for a slab of dirty meat but decides against it as two dogs nearly rip each other to shreds for it. 

 

“Liam, babe, it’s going to be okay. Just hang in there,” Zayn pleads and Liam pulls his knees up to his chest, resting his cheek against them. 

 

Once the dogs have settled down again, Zayn speaks. 

 

“Liam, are you going to marry Princess Danielle?” he asks, his voice void of emotion. 

 

Liam quirks an eyebrow at him, smirking just a bit. “I’m supposed to.” He pauses, fiddling his thumbs together. “I wanted to just not marry at all, but they won’t allow that.” 

 

Zayn hums back.

 

“She’s quite lovely though. And she’s educated and well spoken. I suppose I could do worse. What about you?”

 

Zayn finally meets his eyes then, giving him an earnest - if not a bit sad - smile. “Liam, I am more than happy to just live out the rest of my days serving you.”

 

Liam must not know what to say because he just turns his face away.

 

-

 

Zayn times it perfectly. He waits until he can hear the guards changing positions and he knows that it’s either midday or midnight by all the ruckus. They change shifts every six hours, but only twice a day do they stop to talk about dinner or breakfast. The cage room is dark no matter what time of day it is, but within minutes he can hear a guard snoring away in the chair in the next room, it’s still no indication of what time it is - the guards seem to sleep any time of day, but it is relieving. Liam seems to be sleeping too, though it’s hard to tell with how quiet they’ve had to be.

Without making a peep, Zayn shifts until he’s crouched on his heels, his battered body aching with every little movement. He gives himself as much time as he needs to get his bearings, trying to will each muscle to heal but it’s no use. Eventually he just gives up and makes his way over the door of his cage. 

He reaches a hand into the pocket of his suit and pulls out a set of keys, holding onto the tightly so they don’t jingle on the way out. Once he has them in his hand, he presses himself up against the door as tightly as possible, trying each key at a time. It takes some doing to get the right angle, but eventually one of them slides into the lock and the door clicks open as he turns it. 

He waits a moment for any sign that he’s been found out, but when no one comes to beat him bloody, he pushes the door open. He thanks the gods that it doesn’t creak as it swings and he crawls out onto the wet floor, his limbs complaining after not being able to stretch for so long.

He can tell now that Liam is sleeping in the kennel as he gets closer to it. He unlocks his door just as carefully, and he’s able to slip in without anyone having a clue. He sets the keys down on the floor just outside of the cage. 

Liam’s sleeping figure stirs just as Zayn cups his hand over Liam’s mouth. Liam’s eyes shoot open and he’s about to let out a yelp as Zayn whispers, “It’s me.”

 

Liam reaches out, wrapping his arms around Zayn, loosening his grip as he feels Zayn wince. He presses a kiss into Zayn’s hairline. 

 

“How did you get out?” Liam whispers directly into Zayn’s ear. Zayn points to the keys on the floor and Liam has to squint to see them but once he does, he grins, pecking Zayn’s cheek this time. 

 

“I grabbed them from the guy that beat the shit out of me earlier yesterday.”

 

Zayn motions for him to follow as he slips back out of the cage, and they lock hands to keep close. Zayn thinks it’s going to actually work until he peers into the next room and sees the guard looking right at him. The guard yelps a “hey” and Zayn’s stomach drops. Trying to maintain a clear head, Zayn ducks to grabs the keys on the floor again. 

His fingers are shaking as he tries to remember by feel which key unlocked the cages. 

 

“Liam, climb up,” he demands as he points to the top of the kennels and then darts to the door of one of the cages holding three wolves. He has to try two keys before he gets it right and the door is swinging open just as two guards are spilling into the room in a rush. 

They both try to pull their swords but the under fed dogs have them down to the ground before they can manage to do anything more. The room is filled with snarling and screaming and Zayn has to pull his eyes away and blood starts to fly.

Zayn holds his hand out for Liam to take and practically pulls him from the tops of the cages. Thankfully, Liam has the sense to grab one of the men’s knives as they dart from the room. They can hear men moving all around them, shouting and rushed foot steps but Zayn tries to focus on remembering the way out. He’s tugging them this way and that but suddenly, nothing looks familiar. 

He realizes he’s taken a wrong turn too late, but it doesn’t matter because he can see the front doors to the encampment down a long hall. There are no men guarding it, and he figures it’s probably because they’re all out in the camp looking for Liam. For whatever reason, he feels a little pang of relief knowing that these bandits panic in a crisis - it gives him hope they that might actually make it out of this. _It's a very sloppy thing to leave the front door unguarded_ , he thinks. 

He’s focusing a little too hard on making it to the door, because he yelps as a bandit flies out of a doorway a couple feet in front of them, reaching out to grab at them. Liam, however, seems more prepared because he takes the knife in his hand and rakes it across the man’s throat with a growl. The man makes a choked sound, struggling to breathe as he drops to his knees. 

Zayn is frozen for just a moment - he can’t pull his eyes away from the blood spurting from the man’s neck through his tightly clutched fingers. He remembers what they’re doing as he meets Liam’s determined eyes and suddenly, they’re making for the door again. 

They don’t meet anyone else until they get outside, but even out there, there’s no one standing by the door. People are just rushing around in a panic, swords drawn and bows strung.

The moon is high in the sky, casting dim light on the landscape, but not enough to give them away if they’re careful. Zayn presses his back up against the wall of the tower and motions for Liam to do the same, making themselves as flat as possible as they sneak around the perimeter. 

A guard runs right past them, yelling “find them!”, and Zayn can tell Liam is holding his breath, but they go unnoticed.

 

“This way,” Zayn instructs as he points towards a thin staircase up to the outside wall. He lets Liam go first and then takes the lead again once they’re at the top. He’s trying to figure out a way down when a bandit sneaks up behind them, swinging a sword at them and just narrowly missing Liam’s back. 

 

“Move!” Zayn demands and kicks a leg out as Liam ducks out of the way. His heel connects with the bandit’s chest, sending him flying back and tumbling down the wall and into the camp. 

 

“Hurry,” Liam breathes as he grabs Zayn’s hands. “I’ll lower you down.”

 

Every inch of Zayn’s body is aching but he lets Liam hoist him down the wall. He whimpers a bit as he drops because his ribs are screaming with pain but that doesn’t stop him from reaching his arms back up as Liam is now lowering himself into Zayn’s grip. Liam slips a bit, landing just as hard as Zayn. It takes him a moment to balance himself on his feet, Liam having knocked him off kilter and his head is throbbing hard enough that it’s making it’s interfering with his ability to think.

Zayn’s hand still in his, Liam pulls him off in the direction of the woods but Zayn stops. 

 

“Wait, Liam!” he whisper-shouts, “The back pack.”

 

Zayn tugs him along, trying to locate the embankment of rocks that he hid it in. When his eyes catch it, he darts in that direction, Liam struggling to keep up after not using his legs for so long. 

Zayn doesn’t even have time to sling it over his back as an arrow is soaring just past his head from the top of the camp wall. 

“Make for the woods,” Zayn barks and Liam obeys, turning on a dime and sprinting along, albeit a bit shakily. 

Zayn is so out of breath, he thinks he might be getting dizzy, but he doesn’t stop. He has Liam’s hand in his own, tugging him with each step. It’s so hard to see anything at all, but especially once they’re under the cover of the tree, leaves blocking out every little bit of moonlight there is. 

He can feel himself tripping over every fallen branch and every mole hole but he can’t make himself stop. 

 

“Liam,” he calls for assurance, and even he can hear the worry in his voice.

 

“I’m right here, Zayn,” Liam replies, even though his hand in clutched in Zayn’s so tightly that they circulation is failing. 

 

“We need to stop,” Zayn says, every word strained for lack of breath. Liam says something back to him but he can’t hear it over the crackling of fallen leaves beneath their feet. He’s just about to ask what Liam had said when something snaps around his ankle like the jaws of a shark and he lets out a scream so piercing that it sends the birds in the trees above flying from their branches. 

He drops to the ground immediately, the fall causing the restraint around his ankle to rip his skin and he’s screaming again, tears starting to pour from his eyes. 

Liam is there, dropping to the ground next to him, pleading for Zayn to be quiet, promising him it’s okay, but Zayn can’t stop the noises coming out of his mouth. It hurts like his whole leg is being dipped in acid and his fingers find the wounded area, coming back dripping wet.

 

“Liam, Liam, I’m bleeding,” he whines, fingers starting to press at the metal around his leg.

 

“I know,” he assures, voice sounding panicked as his hands are suddenly around Zayn’s ankle too. He pauses to rip a piece of cloth from his shawl. “I’m so sorry about this, Zayn.”

 

Liam is stuffing the fabric in Zayn’s mouth to stifle the noise and it’s a good thing he does because Zayn is screaming again as Liam works to pull Zayn’s ankle free. 

 

“I think it’s a bear trap,” he says, almost to himself but Zayn can barely hear him as the pain makes his head go fuzzy. Suddenly all he can feel is pressure around his leg and Liam must have released the trap because he’s tugging Zayn up and cradling him in his chest. 

Zayn knows he’s about to pass out once he starts seeing colors flash through his line of sight and all at once he can’t hold his head up anymore. His body is slumping and he knows it but he can’t stop it from happening. All he remembers is Liam lifting him over his shoulder, chanting that it’s going to be okay. 

 

-

 

Zayn is dreaming about being chased by wolves before he wakes. They were just gnawing on his head and leg and were just about to chomp into his stomach when he’s pulled back to reality. It takes his vision a couple of minutes to clear up so he just lays on his back, staring up at a gloomy looking sky as his body screams in pain. 

He can’t clear his mind either. He can’t remember where he is or why he hurts from head to toe, but he can hear birds chirping in the trees above his head. He watches a pair of them flit from branch to branch as he moves his fingers first. It doesn’t hurt very much so he tries the other hand. When that goes without a hitch, he tries to sit up. It’s so painful he thinks he might throw up so instead he just settles for turning his head to look around.

Liam is lying a couple feet to his right, cheek pressed into the dead leaves of the forest floor as he sleeps. Zayn can see a ladybug crawling up Liam’s hand and he absently watches it for a moment as he tries to gather his thoughts. 

He’s trying to remember why they’re laying on the ground when it comes back to him. He recalls the ambush at the pools of water and Liam being kidnapped. He remembers the cages and the bandits and the wolves. He shudders as his dream floods his brain again in flashes. 

 

“Liam,” he calls - or tries to. His voice is rough and doesn’t carry far so he tries again.

 

This time Liam’s fingers twitch just a fraction into the dirt. Zayn doesn’t remember what happened after they sprinted into the forest, it’s like as soon as they stepped into the cover of the trees, his memory goes blank. He thinks maybe Liam is hurt too. 

It’s then that his ankle throbs, sending pains so rough up his leg it makes his stomach tighten. He whimpers and attempt to sit up, but the action only causes a hot burning in his ribs. Suddenly his leg hurts so badly that he cries out, pushing himself up despite his other aches.

As soon as he looks at the wound, his stomach turns and he gags but nothing comes up. The flesh is torn and mangled, dried blood caked all around his ripped pants. 

 

“Liam!” he cries in pain, tipping his head back. He squeezes his eyes shut tight as another wave of pain brings back the memory of the trap snapping closed around his leg like the jaws of a rabid animal. 

Liam’s eyes flick open then and he takes a moment to sit up like Zayn did. Once he looks over at Zayn though, he's up on all fours, a look of concern on his soft features. 

 

“Liam,” Zayn breathes desperately, over and over as the pain washes over him again. Liam crawls over to him, reaching a dirty hand out to stroke Zayn’s face. 

 

“Lie down,” Liam instructs, using a gentle voice. “Just lie down and don’t think about it. I’m going to help.”

 

Zayn knows Liam is trying but he can hear how unsure he is in Liam’s voice. Liam stands shakily like his muscles are sore and starts looking around for the rucksack. Zayn does as he says and lies back, resting his head in the dirt and tries to pretend his leg doesn’t feel exactly like it looks. He regrets looking at it now because that’s all he can see behind his eyelids. He can hear Liam muttering under his breath and he tries to focus on that. He thinks of Liam’s voice, how unique it is, how his lips look when he’s speaking. Somehow that curbs the pain just a bit.

 

“I’m going to try and clean this wound okay? Let’s get you somewhere you can sit up,” Liam says, already starting to grab under Zayn’s shoulders and knees. Liam struggles to lift him and Zayn can feel his muscles shaking under the weight. They’re both weak and underfed, but Liam manages to carry Zayn to prop his shoulders up against a tree. Liam pulls his shawl out of the backpack and balls it up to support Zayn’s head. 

As soon as Zayn looks comfortable, Liam is gathering branches together, clearing off a patch of dirt on the ground so he can get a fire started. He’s not very good at it, but he gets it done as soon as he can. 

 

“What happened last night?” Zayn croaks. Liam doesn’t stop working to build the flames up as he answers.

“I don’t-” He stops speaking as he rips off a piece of cloth and dips it into a skillet of steaming water, bringing it to a boil. He lets it sit by the fire as takes the rest of the cannister of water joins Zayn where he’s slumped over on a tree. “We were running and your leg got caught in a bear trap.”

 

Zayn nods. He remembers that a little too well. Liam reaches into the backpack and pulls out a vial of liquid. “For the pain.”

 

Zayn swallows a bit down, repulsed slightly by the slimy texture on his throat. 

 

Liam very carefully starts to peel Zayn’s pants away from his wound, not seeming to mind as Zayn’s hand finds his bicep, gripping tightly against the pain. Zayn is panting in breaths by the time Liam removes the stiff cloth, having to cut it away with a blade. 

He removes the boiled cloth from the - now warm - water and takes Zayn’s hand as he starts pouring it over the gaping wound. Zayn is squealing by the time Liam is pressing the clean cloth to the wound, trying to stop the bleeding. Liam assures him, over and over again that it’ll be okay, caressing Zayn’s cheek with his free hand to keep his mind off the pain but it doesn’t stop Zayn from drifting off into the darkness again. 

 

-

 

When Zayn comes to, it’s mostly dark but Liam is awake, sitting by the fire. His eyes are skimming over the map in the soft glow and the first thing Zayn thinks is how pretty he looks. He imagines Liam like that, illuminated by the flame, only this time the light is coming from a set of hard wax candles. They’re enjoying palace dinner together at a huge, sturdy dining table. Liam looks up at him in his fantasy and takes his hand, smiling warmly like he does and it makes Zayn’s chest flutter delightedly. 

 

“You’re awake,” Liam says, snapping Zayn out of his day dream. “How are you feeling?”

 

Zayn hasn’t even thought about it, but he realizes then that he can’t feel very much pain at all, just a soft ache. He opens his mouth to say so but it feels so dry, he has a hard time. 

Liam nods, understanding and bringing him a small bowl of water. He sips eagerly, but Liam pulls it away. 

 

“The medicine I gave you might make it hard for you to talk. It dulls the consciousness as well as the pain, I’m afraid,” he informs, smiling apologetically. He lifts the bowl back to Zayn’s mouth and lets him sip a bit more. 

 

“The pain is,” Zayn starts, pausing to find the words. “It’s not bad.”

 

Liam runs his fingers through Zayn’s hair, nodding. “That’s good. That’s all we could hope for.”  
He stands and looks out through the trees. “It’s almost morning and I think I have a good idea which way to start heading.”

 

Zayn frowns. He slept all night? What time was it when he woke up yesterday? He doesn’t try to ask either but instead, “How am I supposed to...move?”

 

Liam runs his thumb over his bottom lip. “I’m going to carry you.”

 

Zayn wants to say, _you can't carry everything_ but he doesn’t get a chance to; he can’t vocalize it before Liam has the whole camp packed up and is slowly pulling Zayn into his arms, Zayn’s legs hanging over his arm. Zayn doesn’t have to try not to move, his body won’t really let him anyway. The pain is minimal but it’s his cracked rib rubbing against Liam’s chest that gives him the most trouble. He doesn’t say anything about that either.

It feels like they walk through the forest forever. Every now and again, Liam has to stop to reposition Zayn in his arms but eventually, he just settles on slinging Zayn over his back, holding on to each of his arms as Zayn tries to wrap his legs around Liam’s waist. 

Zayn really doesn't know how he does it. Liam must be exhausted. Neither of them have eaten for days and this journey has not been easy on their bodies. Liam just pushes through though, even when Zayn can feel his muscles shaking from the strain. 

They finally stop at a grassy clearing and Liam trying to hide how tired he is but he can’t mask the sweat dripping off of his forehead and the quake in his knees as he sets Zayn onto the ground.

There’s a trickling stream of water near by and Liam fills the bowl with it, letting it boil after he sets up a fire. 

 

Zayn is day dreaming again when Liam puts a knife in his hand and says, “I’m going to try and find something for supper. If anything comes at you, just swing this wildly.”

 

Even Zayn laughs at that, nodding. 

Zayn is sleeping again by the time Liam comes back, startling him awake. He finds that he still has the blade gripped tightly in his hand. 

 

Liam has some mushrooms in his arms and he’s putting them into the skillet as Zayn speaks. 

 

“How long were you gone?”

 

“Maybe an hour and a half,” Liam guesses. “Looks like things here were pretty uneventful?”

 

Zayn nods. “I fell asleep.”

 

“That’s good. Rest is the best thing for you right now.” He gets another branch on the fire before coming over to Zayn, unfurling his fingers from around the hilt of the blade. He wipes his hand against Zayn’s damp forehead. He takes a cloth that had been boiling by the fire and wipes at Zayn’s wound again, carefully dumping some warm water into the crevice of flesh to flush it. 

Zayn winces at it, pressing his head back into the dirt. 

 

“You need more pain medicine,” Liam states, brow furrowing in concern. 

 

Zayn shakes his head. “Not yet. I can’t think right on it.”

 

“You don't have to. Leave the thinking to me,” Liam insists. “Don’t put yourself through unnecessary pain.”

Zayn thinks on it for a moment and then agrees, taking another small swig of the goopy liquid. Liam stares at the vial, twirling it in his fingers.

 

“I had Louis on this stuff for a while. I always hated how it made his eyes all glassy and distant but it’s the strongest pain killer I know of.” Zayn can’t hold Liam’s eyes because the more he says, the guiltier he looks. “I don’t want either of you to feel pain.”

 

“It’s okay, Liam,” Zayn assures. “I’ll take it.”

 

They’re quiet as they eat the roasted mushrooms and Zayn’s so hungry that this stomach churns with every bite. They eat every last one of them and Liam helps Zayn into the bedroll just as the sun is setting in the sky. Liam is about to leave him to sit by the fire but Zayn reaches out and grabs Liam’s ankle, silently asking him to stay.

Liam just gives him a sad smile and leans down to press a kiss to his cheek. “Get some sleep, Zayn.”

 

-

 

Zayn is day dreaming about nothing in particular the next day. He’s slung over Liam’s back again and letting his mind wander after his morning dose of medicine. He can hear the sound of a harp playing in his head and he’s smelling the kingdom cherry blossoms despite it being fall now.

 

“I can’t wait to have a big palace breakfast when we get back,” Liam admits, speaking for the first time in a while. Zayn smiles, nodding smally in agreeance and hoping Liam can feel it. Liam’s voice sounds like it’s coming through a tunnel.

 

“I’m going to have fresh eggs and bread and cheese,” he continues dreamily. “And then a huge lunch. And dinner.”

 

It takes him a few moments but Zayn slowly replies in a slurred voice, “I wanna see my mom and dad. And sisters.”

 

Liam suddenly goes quiet and Zayn can feel him tense. 

 

“What’s wrong?” Zayn asks, frowning. His fingers are playing with one of the laces on Liam’s shirt.

 

“Nothing,” Liam answers, turning his head to give Zayn a forced smile. They return to silence as Zayn wonders what he said wrong. 

 

By the time night falls, Liam has been able to gather a couple handfuls of dark berries for them to eat but they still haven’t broken the edge of the forest so they’re forced to settle in under the tree cover again. 

Zayn opts to not look at his ankle as Liam is cleaning it this time. He hasn’t seen it since the day after it happened, but the way Liam’s treatment of it lengthens each time, Zayn can’t imagine it’s getting much better. This time, Liam digs through the backpack, tossing vial upon vial aside until he finds one he’s looking for. He adds some water to it as the power that was inside dissolves.

 

“Hold my hand,” Liam instructs as he swirls it around in the glass. “This is going to sting.”

 

Zayn grips Liam’s hand tight, whimpering as the pain bites it’s way up his leg, even through the painkillers. The burn lasts for a while and Zayn can swear he hears his wound hissing. Liam lifts Zayn’s hand then, pressing a kiss to the back of it. Liam gives him another dose of medicine and they sleep side by side on the forest floor.

 

Zayn dreams of a wolf that grows and grows until it’s as tall as Liam’s tower in the castle. It opens its mouth and a long, wet tongue extends, lifting Zayn off the ground and carrying him back to the wolf’s waiting mouth. He’s swallowed in one, wet gulp. 

 

-

 

Zayn wakes up the next morning feeling very tired. He lays on his back in the bedroll, staring at the sky for a long time before he realizes it’s drizzling ever so slightly and his face is damp, either from sweat or rain. It takes him even longer before he hears Liam rustling around the camp. 

“We have to get moving,” Liam says as he’s stuffing their things into the backpack and then he’s lifting Zayn out of the bedroll and onto the ground before rolling it up. “It’s starting to rain.”

 

“ ‘Could use a shower,” Zayn teases, deciding spending what little energy he has on a joke is worth it to see Liam smile at him. Liam leans down and cups Zayn’s face in one of his warm hands. Zayn can barely stand his eyes, filled with pity as Liam stares at him. Zayn thinks maybe Liam might kiss him but that only lasts a second before Liam is reverting back into the guarded boy he’s been the last couple of days. 

 

Zayn frowns at him, but Liam doesn’t see because he’s busying himself again.

 

As Liam carries him, Zayn wonders if Liam is acting this way because he knows they’ll be home soon. He knows they’ll return to the palace and he’ll have to marry Princess Danielle. He thinks Liam knows what they have can’t continue so Zayn tries to let it go too. He makes a hazy decision to not make this any harder on Liam than it has to be. 

 

-

Zayn can tell that Liam is exhausted. He feels it every time Liam tries to pick him up and his muscles quiver frantically. He can see it in Liam’s furrowed brow as he’s carrying Zayn’s weight across the uneven terrain. He can hear it in Liam’s labored breathing as he struggles up hills with Zayn on his back. 

 

“Liam,” Zayn tries, voice coming out a lot softer than he intended. His mouth is right by Liam’s ear though so Liam looks back at him in response. “Should I try to walk?”

 

Liam tenses, shaking his head. “No, Zayn. I’ve got you.”

 

Zayn stutters on his words before getting it all out. “I’m not stupid, Liam. I know you can’t carry me forever.”

 

Liam huffs in annoyance then, voice lined in defense. “But I will. Until we’re home.”

 

Zayn opens his mouth to argue but Liam shoots him a look over his shoulder that makes Zayn close it again. And as much as Liam would like it to, his words don’t change the way his body tells his secrets. 

As the day drags, it rains off and on. The cool drizzle feels good on Zayn’s hot skin but it makes the ground wet and Zayn feels Liam’s boots lose traction now and then. They’re making their way up a steady incline when Liam loses his balance and they’re crashing to the dirt.

Liam catches most of Zayn’s weight but it doesn’t stop Zayn from crying out as a sharp pain shoots up through his leg. 

 

“Fuck!” Liam grabs Zayn, moving him to a sitting position as gently as he can. “Is it your leg?”

 

Zayn nods, panting just slightly as his body protests at him. “It’s fine though, Liam.”

 

Liam ignores him, taking Zayn’s leg in his hands. 

 

“Liam, if you let me off of the medicine, I can walk-” Zayn tries but he’s cut off by Liam groaning at him. 

 

“Zayn, look at your ankle!” he demands, eyes wide with frustration. “Look!”

 

Zayn glances down at it and tries not to show how disgusted he is at what he sees. The wound is festering. 

 

He looks back up at Liam, keeping a straight face. “Bandage it up and I can walk.”

 

Liam’s hands fly up to his head, fingers twisting in his curls. “I don’t think you understand, Zayn. Your ankle is broken!” he insists. “It’s shattered to bits. You won’t be walking for a long while.”

 

Zayn pauses for a moment, chest tightening with hurt. His words and slow and thoughtful. “No, Liam, I can’t understand. You’re keeping me too drugged up.”

Liam scoffs. “Are you daft?” he asks in a begging tone. He takes Zayn’s chin between his fingers, forcing him to look into Liam’s eyes. “I ought to give you a dose strong enough to just knock you out to keep you from saying such silly things.”

 

Zayn frowns at him and Liam waits for him to say something but he doesn’t - both because it takes too much effort to talk right now and also because he has nothing more to say. Liam stares at him for another moment and then wraps a hands around Zayn’s neck, pulling him into Liam’s chest.

 

“I’m sorry,” he says and Zayn knows he is. He tangles his fingers in Liam’s hair as an acceptance of apology. “Please just let me get you home. I promise I will, please just trust me.”

 

“I do,” Zayn replies and it actually hurts how honestly he means it. 

 

-

 

As they continue, Zayn just gets more and more tired. He sleeps when he’s being carried, he sleeps when they rest - he sleeps at night and during the day. It isn’t restful though; he’s always dreaming. Most of the time, he’s having nightmares, sometimes about being chased, sometimes about being eaten. 

He’s having a dream that he’s talking to Liam while a buzzard picks apart his body when Liam jostles him awake. It’s an effort to keep his eyes open but he forces them when he smells food.

Liam is holding a chunk of squirrel meat in front of his face, hand on Zayn’s shoulder. Liam’s brows are tipped up in concern as he asks, “Don’t you want to eat?”

 

Zayn does. He’s hungry but the sight of food has his stomach turning unpleasantly. He takes it anyway, not wanting Liam to worry further. He munches on it slowly as Liam eats like a ravenous dog and as much as he tries to keep focused, his mind wanders. It isn’t long before he’s somewhere else in his head. It’s too warm there and the sun hurts his face. He squints his eyes at the sun, flicking them down in an attempt to edge the stinging. His gaze lands on his breakfast and he nearly drops it. 

There are little bugs crawling in and out of the holes he’s imagining in the meat that suddenly looks like porous bread. They crawl up his fingers and they’re starting to bore into his skin when Liam says, “Zayn.”

Zayn looks up at him then, panting just a little. “Huh?” 

 

Liam is staring at him in curious concern. “Are you alright?”

 

Zayn nods. He’s about to tell Liam about the bugs but he doesn’t have the energy and he thinks maybe that wouldn’t be the most assuring thing for Liam to hear. “Yeah, why?”

 

“You were whining at your food,” Liam informs. 

 

“No, I’m fine,” Zayn assures - or at least tries - but Liam stands up anyway, pressing the back of his hand to Zayn’s forehead. Zayn knows how warm it is by the way Liam’s skin feels cool in contrast. 

 

The look Liam gives him does absolutely nothing to calm Zayn’s nerves.

 

“Finish that,” he orders, glancing down at Zayn’s - bug free - food. “We need to keep moving.”

 

-

 

_It's so hot_ , Zayn thinks as they march on for days. They finally break through the trees and if Zayn’s honest, he doesn’t know how long they were in the forest. It felt like a lifetime they were under the cover of trees - the ones Zayn kept imagining as on fire because their slightly yellowed leaves caught his attention wrong on more than one occasion. 

The pain had started to seep through the medicine the night before, forcing Liam to up the dose of painkiller and he’s been starting to see and hear things more frequently that just aren’t there as a result. Liam had been speaking to him for a good while before Zayn realized it wasn’t a hallucination, but by that time, Zayn was too out of it to voice to Liam that he hadn’t absorbed a word of what he was saying. 

He caught the tail end of Liam explaining what towns should be coming up and how much further they had to go, but it sounded like Liam was speaking to him above the surface of a pool of water Zayn was submerged in. 

Just like that, Zayn was imagining himself treading, deep in a murky lake and he was struggling to breathe.  
He was trying to pant air in, but it felt like his throat was closing. He could feel his eyes roll back into his head but just as he thought he was going to drown, Liam was above him, hand on the back of his neck.

 

“Zayn,” Liam says, somewhat frantically. “Zayn, take a deep breath for me.”

 

The water around him disappears as Liam tips his chin up, instructing him again to breathe. Suddenly, Zayn realizes that he can do that - he can breathe. There’s nothing stopping him from taking a breath and he pulls the air in until it hurts his lungs.

 

Liam lets out a breath of relief. “Gods, you scared me, Zayn. Are you alright?”

 

Zayn wants to tell him that he is alright, wants to assure him that everything is fine but he can’t remember how to speak so he just nods weakly. 

 

“Okay. You can breathe alright?”

 

Zayn nods again. Even if he could speak, he’d be too embarrassed to tell Liam that he forgot  
how to breathe. Liam presses his hand to Zayn’s forehead again, letting out a worried huff.

He pulls a cloth from the back pack and dumps some clean water on it, pressing it against Zayn’s forehead. It’s ice cold against his skin but it feels so good. He grips Liam’s wrist tight to let him know. 

It’s a few minutes before he realizes that they’re in the middle of a trodden path in a valley. He has just enough mental capacity left to realize that means they might be getting closer to home and he smiles up at Liam, trying to send him the message with his mind.

Liam leans down and presses a peck to his cheek, keeping the cool cloth on his forehead. 

 

“You’re okay,” Liam promises. “I know you’re not going to remember this, but I swear to you I’ll get you home safe.”

 

Zayn thinks _That's silly, of course I'll remember that_ , but he’s already forgotten it by the time he’s back in Liam’s arms and they’re moving again. 

Zayn is just conscious enough through the times he’s awake to realize that Liam is acting hurried - more so than he had been. A sudden thrill of hope spreads through his chest as he thinks they must be getting close to home for Liam to be acting so frantic. He’s about to try and ask Liam how close they are when he spots a village up ahead. Liam must have seen it before him because he starts jogging as fast as he can manage with Zayn in his arms. 

The town is small, just an arm full of buildings within a couple hundred foot radius with a few farms littered around them. People are giving them weird looks as they pass and Zayn wants to tell them all to go to hell, but he can’t so he keeps quiet and half buries his head in Liam’s chest. 

He realizes soon that Liam is looking for a specific building because he keeps asking people for the doctor but no one wants to help him find it, it seems. Zayn looks up at him, frowning at just how dirty Liam looks. His curls are so long and shaggy and dark circles are seemingly permanently painted under his tired, chocolate eyes. 

Zayn reaches up, stroking Liam’s cheek and Liam meets his eyes for just a moment before sprinting ahead even faster. 

He’s yelling now that he needs a doctor and Zayn can see a woman point a finger ahead and as they pass, her finger becomes longer and longer until Zayn squeezes his eyes shut because it’s scaring him. 

Liam almost drops him as he slams open the door to the doctor’s home and office, but somehow his tired muscles manage to hang on.

Zayn hears a man ask what’s wrong, but the words keep playing over and over in his head until the voice is distorted beyond recognition. Liam’s voice pulls him back to the consciousness he wasn’t even aware was slipping away from him. 

 

“We were running from bandits and his leg,” Liam explains, lying Zayn down on a table. The metal feels so cold against Zayn’s skin that he groans out. “It got caught in a bear trap.”

 

Zayn writhes on the table because he can feel someone prodding at his wound and it feels like being stung by bees. 

 

“It’s very infected,” a man replies, sounding concerned. Zayn looks up and him, an old man and tries to tell him that it’s not as bad as it seems, but he’s silenced as the man’s teeth grown until they’re just inches from Zayn’s face. “Is he hallucinating?”

The doctor sounds shocked as his huge, sharp teeth clack against one another. 

 

“For days, Doctor. I just couldn’t get him help any sooner,” Liam explains as Zayn groans again, the doctor’s icicle hands poking around in his wound. “He’s been running a fever.” 

 

Zayn gasps as the doctor’s fingers brush his forehead, frosting the skin wherever they touch. 

 

“Fever?! This kid is burning up,” the doctor exclaims. “I’m surprised he’s even conscious.”

 

Zayn hears him digging around through a drawer of tools, pulling out a syringe. 

 

“I can clean his wound out and give him something light but I don't have anything that’ll clear this infection, son,” the doctor explains. “If you can make it to Falkreath City, you might find some supplies there, but I doubt you’ll make it in time.”

 

“Please don’t say that,” Liam pleads, but it almost comes out as threatening, Zayn grabs at his wrist but Liam doesn’t look down at him. “How far away is it - the city?”

 

“Two or three day’s hard ride if you keep moving through the night,” the doctor informs and his tone is dripping with doubt. 

 

Liam huffs out a breath. “I don’t have a horse.”

 

Zayn catches the look that the doctor gives him then, just a nod with pursed lips. Zayn opens his mouth to speak but it’s a few seconds before he can say anything and by then, they doctor is speaking again.

 

“How do you intend to haul this kid to the palace?” he prompts as he’s filling the syringe with clear liquid. Liam explains that he’ll have to carry him as the doctor starts to flush Zayn’s wound. All Zayn can picture in his head is the bear trap, closing over his ankle again as the pain overwhelms him and he cries out.

“Do you have something more for the pain?” Liam snaps, almost accusing as he reaches down, cupping Zayn’s cheek and finally meeting his eyes. “It’s okay, Zayn. You’re alright. We’re just getting you fixed up,” he assures, but Zayn had just heard the whole conversation and he knows. 

As the doctor sits him up and forces a bitter liquid down his throat, Zayn knows that they don’t have a very good chance of making it back. He tries to swallow but he can feel some of it escaping past his lips. 

 

“There, that should help him fight the infection for a couple more days, but the pain medicine won’t last long. He’ll burn right through it now,” the doctor informs after Zayn’s gotten all of the medicine down. He sees the doctor grab Liam’s arm and pull him aside, but it’s hard for him to hear through the ringing that starts in his ears. They talk for a moment and Zayn sees Liam’s fists clench at his sides. He huffs, annoyed at the doctor and pulls out a couple gold pieces and presses them into his hand. 

 

“Thank you for all of your help,” Liam says, trying to sound honest, but even Zayn can hear the sneering behind it. Liam comes back to him and leans over his body, pressing a cool hand to his face. “I’m going to find us something to eat, okay? Just stay here for a moment.”

 

Zayn is left on the table to receive pitiful glances from the doctor for a few minutes until Liam returns with a loaf of bread. He takes a few minutes to try and feed it to Zayn but Zayn just isn’t hungry. He know he should be - he hasn’t eaten anything substantial in over a week, despite Liam’s efforts - but the taste of even plain bread has him gagging a little. 

When the bread is gone, Liam lifts him off the table again, seemingly using sheer will at this point to hold him up. He hauls Zayn outside as rain pours and Liam gives an exasperated groan. 

 

“Hey, wait!” Liam calls out and Zayn turns his head to see that Liam is trying to stop a cart from leaving the village. “Are you headed to Falkreath?”

 

“Yeah,” the cart driver replies, swiping his jet black, sopping wet curls from his face. Liam breathes a sigh of relief. 

 

“Thank gods. Can we get a ride there?” The man must give him a disapproving look because Liam follows it up with a sad, “Please.”

 

“Where would you ride? I can’t have you squishing my goods,” the man replies, nodding towards the back of the cart that’s heaped full.

 

Liam grits his teeth then, suddenly becoming frustrated. “Listen to me,” he demands, eyes flicking down to Zayn’s expectant face. “I need to get this man back to the palace immediately or he will die.”

 

“I want to help you, man, but what am I supposed to do? I can’t just make room for you two,” the cart driver bargains. 

 

“Then just take him!” Liam pleads, voice breaking. The man gives him apologetic eyes. 

 

“I could take just him, but I’d have to leave some things behind and my keeper won’t like that. Can you pay for them?” 

 

“I don’t have any coin left on me, but I swear to you, I will get you some - more than you could ever want.”

 

The man huffs a disbelieving laugh, brows tipped up in sympathy. “I can’t do that. I’m sorry.”

 

Liam is gripping Zayn’s leg a little too tight, but Zayn doesn’t mind; the slight pain is sobering.  
“Please,” Liam begs, voice crackling. “I’m the Prince,” he says as one last ditch effort. 

 

The cart driver gives him a pained look, obviously not believing Liam. He makes a clucking sound with his mouth at the horse, and as the cart starts to pull forward, he says, “I’m sorry.”

 

-

 

The pain killers have almost completely worn off by the time they hit the next town. They’ve had to stop and take frequent breaks because now Liam is panting, his chest heaving with every breath. Zayn can tell he’s close to complete exhaustion but he doesn’t dare stop moving. 

With the painkillers out of his system and a recent flush to the infection, Zayn’s mind is mostly cleared of all except the pain and nausea that comes and goes in swells. He’s start to feel like he’s on the ocean, being rocked back and forth into sickness. He’s only ever been on a boat once, and it was incredibly less than fun.

 

“Liam,” he croaks, gripping Liam’s bicep in an effort to get his attention. 

 

“Zayn, I don’t have any more medicine for you,” Liam says, sounding defeated. He gives Zayn a mournful look but doesn’t stop moving. “I’m sorry.”

 

“It’s okay, Liam. I don’t want pain medicine.” The rain has stopped almost completely, having died down to a light drizzle somewhere between the last town and where they are now. 

 

“Shh, Zayn. Save all your strength for me, okay? We should be close to the next town,” Liam promises. Zayn isn’t sure what that’s supposed to mean for them, but he keeps quiet anyway. 

 

He falls asleep before they reach the next settlement, but somewhere along the line, Liam had gotten Zayn slung over his back without Zayn noticing at all. It’s the sound of children playing in the muck of the streets that wakes Zayn and he lifts his head enough to see people giving them worries looks as they pass. He expects Liam to stop, but he keeps walking right through the center of the town until they reach a farm, just off the beaten path. There’s a girl in a cotton dress running a rake through a small garden and she startles as he sees them coming up on her. It takes Liam a good moment to catch his breath enough to speak.

 

“I need a horse,” he informs strongly. He wipes the dirt from her hands onto her apron, her eyes flicking to the pasture to the left. She doesn’t look convinced.

 

Liam sighs. “I have tried being nice. I’ve tried begging,” he says with pointed words. “And now I’ve run out of time for niceties. I am taking one of your horses one way or another. When I get to where I’m going, I will give you more than what you’re owed for it. Do you understand?”

 

She stares at him with wide eyes but slowly nods. He follows her as she makes to unlatch the gate on the pen and lets him in. Liam thinks she’s retreated into the house to get someone to help her fight him off, but she returns - as he’s trying to get Zayn situated on a mare’s back - with a basket. Zayn does his best to hang on to the horse’s hair as Liam opens the basket to find a loaf of bread and a couple of apples and carrots. Slung around her other arm is a rope lead that she ties around the makeshift halter and holds it out for Liam to take.

 

He looks as if he’s about to cry as he thanks her and tugs the horse to start following him out of the pen. They make it ways down the road before Zayn’s vision goes dark. He can only see shapes and shadows for a few minutes before he passes out entirely. 

 

-

 

“Zayn.” Liam is shaking him awake and the horse’s mane is tickling his lips. He opens his eyes picking some stands out of his mouth as he tries to sit up. They’ve stopped moving and the sun has gone down now. Zayn is in so much pain he has to grit his teeth as the waves wash up his body. His head is pounding as the sweat drips down his cheeks.

Liam runs the tips of his fingers across Zayn’s cheek, tipping his head up so he can breathe better. 

 

“You need to eat, Zayn,” Liam states, speaking softly. He’s already gotten a piece of bread ripped off into his other hand. Zayn shakes his head.

 

“I can’t.”

 

“You have to,” Liam says a bit more sternly. “You haven’t had a real meal in a week. You don’t have enough energy left to make it back unless you eat.”

 

Just the thought of eating makes his stomach roll. “I don't think I can keep it down.”

 

Liam just frowns at him for a moment, tugging the horse along again and taking a bite of the bread himself. “Are you feeling sick?”

 

“All the time,” Zayn confirms. 

 

“Please, just try for me.”

 

Zayn gives a sigh and nods, taking a small piece of bread and stuffing it into his mouth. He gags but manages to swallow it down. He thinks Liam tries to hand him another piece but he’s already starting to fade out again. He doesn’t fight it, just lays his head down and drifts off. 

 

-

 

They must ride through the night because the sun is straight above them when Zayn wakes up again. He doesn’t have enough energy to lift his head so he just stares out into the horizon. He can see people out in fields of wheat, flowing like liquid gold in the cool breeze. They are harvesting with long sicles, swaying them back and forth through the crop.

 

“Are we almost there?” Zayn asks, seemingly startling Liam a bit. 

 

“We’re getting closer,” Liam replies vaguely, shooting him a little smile. 

 

Zayn nods smally and keeps quiet for a moment, thinking. He’s wondering if he’ll die before he gets back to the palace. He’s wondering if it’ll be painful. He thinks that he’s okay with dying out here if Liam makes it back okay. He had always known this was a possibility.

 

“You know, I was twelve years old when I remember thinking, ‘I wish I was Louis’,” Zayn says. Liam nods, huffing a laugh. 

 

“He’s had a pretty good life with us,” Liam agrees. “I could see why you’d want that.”

 

Zayn scoffs, rolling his eyes. “I didn’t want to be him because he got a palace wide birthday party every year. Or because he got to sleep with goose down pillows,” Zayn replies like it’s obvious. He had forgotten that Liam was socially daft in so many ways. “I wanted to be him because I’ve always wanted to be closer to you.”

 

Liam stops walking for a moment, being jerked forward again when the horse keeps going. He looks back at Zayn with curiosity for a moment. 

 

“Oh.” 

 

“I wanted to grow up with you - be your best friend,” Zayn adds, vision going blurry. Suddenly Liam’s curls turn into a halo of light in the sun. “You were the kindest person I knew. I always imagined you’d make a great friend.”

 

Liam looks almost a little sad as he says, “That’s very kind of you, Zayn.”

 

“I was right,” Zayn is able to say before his tongue feels too heavy to speak anymore. 

 

It’s late in the day when Zayn starts to heave. He can’t stop it, it just happens and he wretches so hard his ribs scream at him. 

 

Liam stops, coming to his side immediately. “Zayn.”

 

Zayn wants to assure him that he’s okay, but the next wretch brings up the all that he’d consumed that day. The force of it has him slipping off the back of the mare and into Liam’s arms. The horse gives a nervous sound, hooves stomping into the wet dirt. 

Liam lays him down into the grass, moving him onto his side. Zayn heaves again and it brings tears to his eyes but he has nothing left to expel. Liam sits next to him for a while, just supporting his head until Zayn using all the energy he has left to push himself onto his back. 

 

“Liam, you have to get the medicine back to Louis,” he says. 

 

Liam nods. “I will,” he agrees. “Don’t worry about that right now.”

 

Zayn shakes his head. “You have to go now, Liam.”

 

“We’ll start moving again in a few minutes. You have to rest-” Liam starts, cupping Zayn’s face in his hands. Zayn smiles at him. Socially daft.

 

“Liam,” he tries again, eyes starting to roll back on their own accord. He just closes them all together. “ _You_ have to go.”

 

“ _I will_ ,” Liam snaps back through gritted teeth. “As soon as you can move again.”

 

Zayn sighs, tears slipping down his cheeks despite his best efforts. His leg is killing in, but it’s the way his head feels like it’s going to explode that’s the most uncomfortable. “If you don’t make it back before Louis dies, this whole thing will have been in vain.” 

 

Liam stays completely silent, but Zayn can imagine the way his brows furrow in frustration.

 

“I’m just going to slow you down now,” Zayn reasons but he’s cut off.

 

“You shut up, Zayn,” Liam demands and Zayn opens his eyes to see the way Liam’s look truly angry. “I thought you said you trusted me.”

 

Zayn frowns at him, a sudden pang of guilt washing over him. 

 

“I remember when we all lined up for you,” Zayn starts. “All of the guards in the kingdom lined up for you to pick one of us.”

 

“As a personal guard,” Liam agrees and Zayn can feel his thumb swipe over Zayn’s lips. 

 

“Yeah, and you looked at me for a moment and I thought for sure you’d pick me, but you picked Paul,” Zayn laughs. “He was right next to me. And I remember thinking that I was so close.”

 

Liam laughs sadly. “I only picked him because he was the biggest one of you.”

 

Zayn looks back up at him again after he doesn’t speak for a moment. Liam has this defeated look painting his features. Zayn reaches up and tries to wipe it away. 

 

“I bet you wish I’d never have even talked to you that night in the hall. I picked you then because I’d seen you with a bow a couple years ago and how perfect your aim was, even back then.” Liam has to stop mid sentence as his voice cracks.

 

Zayn shakes his head. His voice comes out so earnest it’s almost a little embarrassing. “I’ve felt like the luckiest person alive since that night.”

 

Liam loses it then, letting out a rough sob. 

 

“I have always loved you, Liam. For as long as I can remember.”

 

Liam leans down and presses a kiss to the sharp of Zayn’s cheekbone. He sniffles back the tears, wiping his eyes on the shawl around Zayn’s neck. He reaches into the backpack, pulling the vial containing the blood-red Snowberry concoction. He stares at it for a second before uncorking it. 

 

“Liam, no,” Zayn protests, weakly. “That’s for Louis.”

 

Liam gives him a look through bloodshot eyes that silences him instantly.

Zayn can only watch as he pours a couple drops directly into the wound. His flesh feels hot for a second where the liquid fell and then the feeling fades away. Liam starts lifting him from the wet grass and just the pain of being moved is enough that Zayn lets out a gasp, head tipping back as his vision goes spotty. 

 

“Hang on, Zayn,” Liam pleads, hoisting him back up onto the mare. Zayn’s world starts to fade out to just colors, but he can feel the horse protest beneath him as Liam tries and fails a few times to mount behind Zayn. 

It’s rocky, even when Liam does finally get on. Zayn can’t hold himself up well so he’s leaned forward on the horse’s neck, hanging on the best he can. The horse takes off before Liam is ready, sending them both flailing a little, but Liam is able to grab onto it’s mane instead of falling off. She’s dancing around like she’s not happy with hauling so much weight on her back, but Liam doesn’t let up until she’s moving at a brisk pace. Zayn drifts out with Liam chanting _hang on_ , over and over behind him 

 

-

 

Liam’s legs start aching not long after pulling himself onto the mare’s back. They’re overworked, so he expected it. He hadn’t expected the sharp pains shooting up his spine every time the horse drove forward. It hurts enough that it has him breathing hard. Every one of his muscles protest him going any further but he’s reminded why he has to keep moving every time Zayn mumbles something incoherent under his breath. 

He didn’t have the heart to tell him that they’re still a full day away from the palace if they ride through the night. 

He doesn’t know much about horses - his father had tried to get him to take riding lessons in his teens but he wasn’t very good and always felt like he was doing wrong by the horse - but he knows it’s only a matter of time before the mare tires and has to stop. 

And he should probably stop too and get some rest. His eyes feel heavy and dry. He figures they probably should after not sleeping for more than a couple hours in the past few days. He simply doesn’t have time to stop though, not under his circumstances. 

He’s starting to recognise the area more the closer they get to Falkreath, his kingdom illuminated by just the silver moonlight. He recalls something one of the equestrians at his place taught him years ago, something about horses being able to cover a lot more ground at a trotting pace than a running pace. Even now though, the mare is breathing heavy, snorting every other breath or so. 

She starts to slow soon after, rearing her head back as Liam tries to calm her. 

 

“It’s okay,” he assures, trying not to sound panicked. If she decides to buck them both off, Liam knows there’s nothing he could do to stop her. He leads her over to the a small creek by the hair and lets her drink for a few moments, talking sweetly to her. She ducks her head and rips some tender grass from the ground, chewing slowly.

 

“No, no,” Liam pleads, trying to tug her head back up. “We don’t have time for that.”

 

She doesn’t mind him at all, just keeps chomping away. He huffs, and leans over Zayn, patting her on the neck. He tries squeezing her belly with his legs like he was taught but she shakes her head at him, almost as if she’s laughing. He tries everything he can, but she doesn’t move again until she’s ready. 

He rides until the sun starts coming up and his heart is pounding. He can start to recognise the towns as they pass which fills him with a thread of hope.

 

He’s swaying with every step of the horse, too tired to keep himself upright, let alone rock his hips to the rhythm to help him ride so he just hangs on as tightly as he can. There are a few times he feels like the mare wants to stop, to catch her breath but he guiltily keeps her going, smacking her rear to keep her at the right pace. 

The sun is directly in his eyes, about to set as he comes to the top of a hill. He barks an exasperated laugh when he sees his palace miles and miles off in the distance. It’s completely unchanged, looking exactly like he’d left it and it brings tears to his eyes. He stops the horse at the top of the hill and she prances in her place as she waits for Liam’s order, full of nervous energy.

He unlatches his fingers from the mare’s mane. They throb as they ache from being tensed into that position for so long. He places his hand on Zayn’s shoulder, shaking him awake.

 

But Zayn doesn’t wake. 

 

“Zayn,” Liam coaxes. “Zayn, we’re almost there.”

 

Zayn is completely limp against him. His hazel eyes roll back into his head as Liam shakes him again.

 

“No,” Liam says - or tries to say but he just opens his mouth and rasps, he tips Zayn’s head up, pressing his ear to Zayn’s throat. He can feel Zayn breathe - weak and slow. 

Liam is so tired. Every part of him wants to shut down, but he takes a moment to convince himself that they’re going to make it before urging his horse onward. 

The last couple miles are the most challenging part of the trip; the closer he gets, the more his heart starts to race until it’s pounding in his ears. His skin feels electric as he pushes the mare into a sprint to finish out the last couple of miles. 

He’s breathing just as heavily as she is and the air is cold enough to make his mouth dry as he pants it in. He’s starting to become light headed from the lack of sleep, but suddenly he can hear people shouting and the palace is only a couple miles away. He must have been spotted because he can see guards gathering along the top of the wall - archers with their bows in hand. 

There’s just a tiny bit of light in the sky when he can see the solid front doors start to open. He realizes that people recognise who he is when he watches a crowd of guards pour out through the doors. His horse stops short, but he situates Zayn in his arms and slides off anyway. His legs give out beneath him, his thighs feeling like jelly suddenly - completely useless.

He can see people screaming at him, but it all just sounds like noise as they rush around him in the middle of the cobblestone road. They are asking him if he’s okay and what happened and they’re so loud that they don’t hear him urging them to take Zayn from his arms. A handmaid is next to him suddenly, dabbing at his forehead like he’s the one that’s dying. 

 

He swats her away, with a, “No!”

 

She looks a little hurt but he doesn’t have the energy to care. 

 

“All of you, be quiet,” he demands pointedly after someone is suddenly tries to lift him, knocking Zayn from his arms. He rolls into the grass, but no one notices. They all pause, ready to listen to him then.

 

“Take Zayn to the West Wing,” he instructs, throat feeling tight as he realizes he’s crying. “He needs immediate medical attention.”

 

Some guards look at each other confusedly and some just stare at Liam, not understanding fully.

 

“Now!” he barks in disbelief and someone lifts Zayn instantly, heading back to toward the palace at a brisk pace. He can feel himself starting to slip away into exhaustion. He reaches back into his backpack shakily and out of the corner of his eye, he can see someone catching his horse, throwing a rope around her neck as she dances around nervously. 

He pulls out the vial of medicine, pressing it into the handmaid’s palm and closing her fingers around it. “Get this to Louis and give him the whole dose.” His words are starting to slur, but he makes himself sure she’s understood him before he lets her walk away. 

Paul is by his side then, lifting him with one arm around Liam’s body. He starts walking him past the gates as people stare.

 

“Listen to me,” Liam demands, closing his eyes as he fades. “Assemble a troop and send them to the mountains. They are to bring me back every single red berry they see there.”

-

 

When Liam wakes up the next morning, he’s not quite convinced the whole last month and a half wasn’t just a dream. He doesn’t hurt or ache as badly as thinks he should at all. He’s only sure he hadn’t imagined it after he runs his hands over his down pillows and decides they’re a little too soft. He gets up and as he dresses, wincing as his thighs start to protest and he stares at his huge bed a bit suspiciously. He can’t remember getting into it last night. He doesn’t remember anything after jumping off of his horse. 

He’s tying the laces on his pants when his bedroom door opens. Lady Eleanor pushes through the doorway, jumping as she sees Liam standing.

 

“Your Grace!” she exclaims, setting a couple of vials of medicine on an ottoman as she rushes over to him. “You should be in bed. You’ve worked yourself to the bone.”

 

He had forgotten what it was like to have someone calling him by his title and not by his given name like Zayn had gotten accustomed to. Liam gives her a tight smile, shrugging her off as she tries to usher him back into sitting. 

 

“I’m fine,” he starts, but she interrupts him.

 

“Only because we have you on a light pain killer,” she argues back timidly, her blue eyes huge with worry. “You can’t use too much energy just yet.”

 

“No more pain killer,” he states as the memory of Zayn’s hallucinations flash behind his eyes. He places his hands on her shoulders. “I’ll get back into bed, but I’m going to see Zayn first.”

 

“The guard?” she questions. “He’s being very carefully monitored.”

 

Something about the way she says it makes his eyebrow quirk. “What do you mean?”

 

“Well, I mean,” she starts. “He’s being cared for, but he's considered a prisoner right now.”

 

“What?!” he snaps and he can feel himself looking at her like she’s crazy. He realizes as she cowers back a little that he hadn’t ever explained the situation to anyone. 

 

“Well, suddenly the prince disappears in the night for seemingly no reason and suddenly a guard doesn’t show up for roll call the next morning? Everyone had assumed he stole you away or,” she pauses, eyes flicking away as she deflates a little. “Worse.”

 

Liam nods, calmer now. “I’m sorry, Lady Eleanor. I’m sorry that I left you all without an explanation.”

She looks up at him, seemingly a little guarded. “No one knew what to do. Everyone was so lost. Louis asked about you every day until he went into a coma.”

 

Liam’s head snaps up, looking at her in worry. “Is he alright?” His voice comes out a shakily, almost pleading. She smiles up at him, just a fraction. 

 

“He’s awake this morning.”

 

-

Liam rushes as fast as his muscles will allow down the halls of the palace with Paul in tow. He had stopped Liam on his way out of his bedroom door and Liam couldn’t convince him to let Liam leave his room without monitoring. Secretly, Liam’s heart warmed at the idea of Paul being so protective but he couldn’t have Paul knowing, so he had just rolled his eyes at him and nodded in reluctant agreement. 

 

Louis is sitting up in his bed when Liam bursts through the doorway and Liam doesn’t miss a single beat as he crosses the room and envelopes Louis’ tiny body in a hug. His cheekbones jut out more than ever from lack of nutrition, but Liam thinks he’s never looked better than the way his eyes light up when he spots Liam.

 

“You made it back,” Louis says and he grips on to Liam like he’s terrified he might just vanish. 

 

“I promised you I’d come back,” he replies with a breathy laugh, cupping the back of Louis’ head as Louis presses his face into Liam’s neck. 

 

“Where did you go?” 

 

Lady Eleanor is by Louis’ other side now, handing him a glass of water. “Now’s not the time for a long story,” she advises, pulling his blankets up on his lap. “You need to rest.”

 

Liam nods in agreement. “I’ll tell you everything soon,” he assures. “For now, let’s just focus on getting you back on your feet.”

 

Louis frowns at him and Liam chuckles back. “I promise I’m not going anywhere. I won’t leave you again.”

 

Louis nods before Eleanor starts to get him situated in his bed for a rest. “Will you stay with me until I fall asleep?”

 

“Of course.”

 

-

 

It’s not until later that night after dinner - after taking the nap he’d promised to Lady Eleanor - that he finds himself back in the West Wing. He can hear the sounds of people arguing in the halls and he shoots Paul a look as he goes into defense mode, tensing and reaching for Liam’s shoulder. 

 

“Paul,” Liam huffs as Paul steps in front of him, keeping the lead. “It’s fine.”

 

“Just stay behind me.” His words come out as more of a statement than a request. They round the corner to find Zayn’s door is guarded by two palace guards and they have their hands on the hilts of their swords, threatening a couple standing in front of them.

 

Liam rushes ahead, making Paul groan with a, “Can’t you just listen to me once?”

 

“What is going on here?” Liam asks, trying not to sound accusatory but failing. The couple, a Redguard man and woman gasp when they see him. They bow to him nervously, but Liam shakes his head at them, immediately recognising who they must be. 

 

“We came to see him, Your Grace,” Zayn’s mother explains.

 

“Leave us,” Liam demands the guards. They give him a questioning look.

 

“We can’t do that, Your Grace,” one of them says - _the braver one_ , Liam thinks. “He’s a criminal. We were told to guard this door.”

 

Liam grits his teeth, having to unclench his fists at his sides. “That man in there saved my life,” he explains. “But that shouldn’t matter, because  
just told you to leave.”

 

“And send some nurses, for gods’ sake!” he calls as they leave, but one is already coming around the corner then. She looks at the guards as she meets them on the way past and then at Liam. She pauses in front of Zayn’s door, obviously wondering what he expects of her.

 

“Your Highness?”

 

“Everything is fine,” Liam assures her. “What’s your name?”

 

“It’s Lou,” she replies with a nod. She has a whole basket of concoctions in her arms.

 

“Lou, the mess with the guards was a whole misunderstanding. The man in there doesn’t even a thread of maliciousness in his body. Please go inside and make sure he has everything he needs.”

 

She nods in understanding, seeming to relax the more he speaks to her. She heads inside and Liam would admit that he tries to peek in as the door opens, but he can’t see a thing. Zayn’s parents are looking at him expectantly as soon as she’s gone. 

 

Liam’s chest tightens as he’s looking into their eyes. They’re just as terrified as he is - if not more - and somehow, that makes his skin crawl.

 

“Your Grace?” his mother asks again, toying her hands together to calm her nerves. 

 

“I took him with me when I left. I was hoping he could protect me out there,” Liam explains in a rush. “And he did. He saved my life.”

 

Zayn’s mother has a tear dripping down her cheek as she speaks next, clutching her husband’s hand tight. “We thought he was dead.”

 

Liam wants to say _me too_ but he absolutely does not, because his throat feels tight and he realizes then that he’s about to cry too. He waits a moment to speak, hoping his emotions won’t betray him, but with his words come a wracked sob. “I’m sorry.”

 

Zayn’s mom looks like she’s going to reach out to comfort him, but her hand stops midway to Liam’s shoulder as she remembers that Liam’s the prince and not just a distressed young man. 

 

The door to Zayn’s room opens then and Lou is stepping back out. All three of them hold their breath as they wait for her to speak.

 

“He’s alive,” she says, addressing Liam. “But he’s very, very weak - he hasn’t woken up yet.”

 

Liam nods, trying to swallow the lump in his throat as more tears threaten his eyes. “Is he going to make it?”

 

“We don’t know yet,” Lou answers honestly, her - almost white - hair catching the light of the candles illuminating the hallway. “The infection is terrible, but the fact that he’s still alive seems pretty promising to me.”

 

Liam nods, turning to Zayn’s parents and saying, “Please, go in and see him. I’ll come back tomorrow.”

 

“Oh, thank you, Your Grace,” his mother says, her huge brown eyes looking so earnest. Liam nods, giving a tight smile as a wave of guilt washes over him. His stomach tightens and he doesn’t try to peek into the room this time as they open the door.

 

“I want a nurse with him at all times of the day. I want him treated like a prince,” he says to Lou, staring into her eyes to make sure she understands. She just nods back.

 

“I’ll send someone now, Your Highness.”

 

It’s not until later that he’s tucked into his own bed, partially eaten dinner shoved aside that he lets himself start to cry. He sobs into his pillow until he’s exhausted himself and he sleeps heavily and dreamlessly. 

 

-

 

The next day, Liam has breakfast with Louis in front of the window in Louis’ room as he starts telling the story of his adventures out in the kingdom. Louis listens, completely silent. He doesn’t ask even a single question, only little oohs and ahhs at the more thrilling parts. 

It takes Liam the whole first half of the morning to recount the whole story and all the while, he’s waiting for someone to tell him something about Zayn - he’d even settle for news that he’s stirred in his sleep, but nothing comes.

When the story is finished, Louis is smiling at him, looking like he’s trying to process everything.

 

“You were caged up like an animal? And the hot springs. And women bandit clan leaders,” he clarifies, all while Liam nods, laughing under his breath. “You climbed a mountain! This story is better than any book I’ve ever read.”

 

Liam breathes a laugh. “That’s high praise from such a book worm.”

 

He can remember time and time again he’d gone looking for Louis around the palace, only to find him tucked away into the sprawling library.

 

“There’s just one thing I don’t understand.” Liam looks up at him then, waiting for him to continue. “Why did you pick that guard?”

 

Liam’s stomach twists nervously but he forces a smile. “What do you mean? It was just by chance - he just happened to be there when I went looking for someone.”

 

Louis scoffs at him. “Right. I’m supposed to just believe that you - the Liam that plans everything almost obsessively - just asked the first guard he saw to take him on a life endangering adventure.”

 

Liam’s face fall then. They’re alone in the room together, so he decides feels comfortable letting out a sad sigh. He’s always been able to be himself around Louis - no princely facade needed, remembers. 

 

“I watched him training years ago in the barracks - Louis, he was so perfect with a bow,” Liam recalls, smiling as he thinks of how Zayn had been able to hit the target time and time again. His smile falters when he looks up and sees the expectant look on Louis’ features. “I checked the guard schedule to see when he’d be there.”

 

Louis nods. “He’s a handsome one, the one you took. Eleanor had to explain him to me, but I knew exactly which one she was talking about.”

 

Liam cups his face into his hand as he tries to rub away the sudden guilt. He looks directly into Louis’ bright, blue eyes as he speaks next.

 

“I love him, Louis.”

 

The look of shock on Louis’ face forces a nervous laugh to bubble out of Liam’s mouth.

 

“What?” Louis replies dumbly.

 

Liam, smiling, nods at him. He takes a moment before he continues. “I do. I absolutely love him.”

 

Louis turns to stare out the window at the dull looking autumn trees. “Well. That will be a first in Falkreath history - a king and his _prince_.”

 

Liam frowns at him. “What about Princess Danielle? I mean, she’s probably on a ship here to see my return as we speak.”

 

“You can’t marry her,” Louis exclaims, looking at Liam like he’s gone mad. “Not if you don’t love her. You don’t, do you?”

 

Liam shakes his head. “No, I don’t think I ever really even fancied her. She didn’t seem to really like me either anyway, her parents kind of pushed us together.”

 

“So then what’s left to decide?” Louis is smiling warmly at Liam when their eyes meet again. Liam has truly never been so grateful to have such a friend in his life. 

 

-

 

It’s around noon, three days later and Liam is sitting - head of the table - at a briefing. He’s not been able to stop reaching up to adjust his circlet. He’s been without it for so long that it feels foreign in his curls now.

 

“The troop of soldiers you sent out for medical supplies,” one of his advisors starts as he shuffles through some papers. “For _berries_ , have just arrived at Riverwood. They’re perfectly on schedule as of now.”

 

Liam smiles at him. “That’s splendid, Simon. Thank you. What else do you have for me?”

 

Another advisor, Josh, gets his attention then. “With winter approaching, the share of crops from the towns will diminish again, but we have more than enough stored to get through the winter. Oh, and Prince Liam?”

 

Liam nods at him to continue, taking a sip of water from his goblet. The second he sets it back down, a page is bringing a pitcher over to fill it again.

 

“We had another troop ride through the night to the location you specified, but it had been abandoned recently. The bandit clan you’d described must have tucked tail and relocated as soon as you escaped.”

 

Liam sighs, suddenly frustrated. “Please, tell them to keep looking. There’s no way that many people just disappear. And when you find them, I want the four women _alive_.”

 

Josh nods at him, jotting down Liam’s orders with his quill. Simon opens his mouth to inform further, but Paul is opening the door then from the outside, poking his head inside.

 

“Lou Teasdale for Your Grace,” he states and Liam stands immediately as Lou enters the room. 

 

“I’m sorry, gentlemen. We’ll have to continue this tomorrow,” Liam says, leaving no room for anyone to argue with him. He places a hand on Lou’s back and ushers her out the door, following her as she starts down the hallway. Paul goes to follow but Liam just dismisses him for the evening and - to Liam’s relief - he reluctantly abides.

 

“I’m terribly sorry to interrupt, Your Highness, but Zayn is awake,” Lou says.

 

“No, I’m very glad you did. Did you inform his parents?”

 

“Yes, Sir. Just like you asked. They’re up there with him now,” she confirms.

 

“How is he doing?” 

 

“He’s very alert and not in a lot of pain. I’m pretty confident he’ll recover from the infection.”

 

“That’s absolutely perfect.” Liam’s heart is racing- he can feel it in his temples. “I’ve got to make a stop, but I’ll be up to join them swiftly.”

 

“Prince Liam,” she says, carefully placing her hand on Liam’s arm as he’s about to rush off. He pauses, looking at her. Her face looks a bit regretful and his heart pounds even more frantically as he waits for her to continue. “We’ve cleaned the infection out of his wound and stitched it up, but he won’t walk right.”

 

Liam frowns back at her, stomach knotting up inside of him. “For how long?”

 

“It’s hard to say. He might need crutches forever,” she explains, keeping her tone very mellow like she's speaking to a child. 

 

Liam purses his lips for a moment before nodding at her. “Thank you.”

 

She nods back before heading off and Liam listens to her heavy, cotton dress sliding across the floor as she goes. He waits until he can’t hear her anymore and then leans back against the stone wall, shutting his eyes. 

 

His emotions are a mess - he can’t tell if he should be relieved that Zayn is awake, or upset about the recent news. 

 

 _He's alive_ ,Liam reminds himself. _He's made it this far_.

 

He takes a deep breath, shoving it all aside in his head before pushing himself off the wall. He’s on a mission now, after all. 

 

He makes it out to the courtyard and through the gardens where children are playing, racing around the benches and through the shedding bushes. The people in the stables greet him formally, bowing to him as he nods back politely. 

 

“Did my horse make it back alright?” he asks, eyes skimming the rows and rows of stalls. There are horses of every color and size being tended to with care in the boxes. The stables weren’t his destination, but he thinks he can stop for a moment.

 

“Yes, Your Grace,” a stable hand replies. He’s tall and lanky, with pointed features that animate as he talks. He beckons for the prince to follow him as he leads the way through the maze of hay bales and stalls. “Does she have a name?”

 

“I think I'll let Zayn name her.”

 

The man stops in front of the last stall, opening the door to let Liam in. She’s pulling hay from a net tied to a stall post as Liam goes to stroke her. She lets him, seemingly having forgiven him for everything. 

 

“Any idea what you’d like to do with her?”

 

Liam smiles. “Yeah, actually. She’s going to be a very lazy, happy horse. Just keep her needs met.”

 

After the stables, Liam reaches his destination and when he descends the stairs into the blacksmith building, he’s met with a chorus of courteous greetings. There are at least ten men working, pounding away at various projects, but they all pause when they see the prince.

 

“Good afternoon, men,” he addresses, a grin plastered on his face now. The smith expert is a towering, thin man by the name of George and he reaches a gloved hand out for Liam to shake. 

 

“Is it finished?” Liam asks as some of the apprentices get back to their duties but obviously work to keep the volume down. 

 

George offers the prince a small smile, pacing to the other side of the small room. There’s a red velvet cloth that George grips and pulls away to reveal what Liam had asked for and when his eyes find it, he crosses the room to hold it himself. 

The circlet looks soft in his fingers through it’s made of solid yellow gold. Shiny leaves wrap around themselves to form a perfect circle and come down to a point to house a large ruby that will sit perfectly between Zayn’s eyebrows. It’s exactly like Liam had described. His heart feels like it’s going to burst as he runs his fingers around it. 

 

**EPILOGUE**

 

Liam is wringing his hands together as his stomach does flips. Lady Eleanor’s tongue is poking through her lips as she tries to brush his hair into the perfect position and he doesn’t have the heart to tell her that it won’t matter the second he steps outside into the spring breeze. She looks lovely in a floor length pink dress, her hair pinned up intricately around her mousy features. 

 

“El,” Louis chuckles. “It looks just fine.”

 

Liam breathes a laugh at him because, Louis too has been trying to situate a broach on the breast of Liam’s jacket for at least three minutes. He lets them fiddle though, knowing it’s a comforting thing for them to dowt over him. 

 

He can watch exactly what they’re doing in a mirror across the room, and when he meets his own eyes, he smiles. He’s not sure when exactly he started standing a bit taller, losing some baby fat, but he imagines spending a couple months in the wilderness could do that to a person.

 

When Louis and Eleanor are both ready to accept their work, they both stand in front of him. Louis calls a “Ready” across the room and a set of doors are creaking open. 

 

Zayn is standing there in between Ant and Danny who look to have been sharing the same job as Louis and Eleanor. 

The sight of him knocks Liam’s breath out of his lungs for a moment. He’s dressed in a cream colored robe that’s strikingly clean looking against his dark features. A delicate chain connects the collar of a maroon cape that hangs off of his shoulders and dusts the floor. 

He opens his mouth to say something, but it’s cut off as there’s a knock on the door across the room. A page pokes his head in, looking sheepish. 

“Your Grace,” he starts and then eyes Zayn. “ _Graces_.”

 

Zayn’s eyebrows shoot up at the title and a he looks over at Liam, smirking. 

 

“Are you ready? Everything is in place for you,” the page finishes. Liam nods. 

 

“I think we are. Just putting on the final touches,” he replies. And then, addressing the room, he says, “Let’s all get into our places.”

 

Zayn walks to him then, just a bit of a limp left on his stride. The closer he gets, Liam notices the shimmer on his cheekbones and across his nose catching the light. He’s got a dusting of black coal around his eyes and an intricate ring on every other finger. 

 

“You certainly were cut out for royal life,” Liam chuckles, brushing his cheek. “You look stunning.”

 

Zayn smiles sweetly at him. “I can’t believe this is happening, if I’m being honest.”

 

Liam cups his face then, pulling him in and placing a kiss tenderly on his lips. 

 

“Hey, save the show for ceremony,” Ant teasingly scolds, approaching them holding a package. Liam reaches out and tugs a ribbon, unwrapping the white cloth to reveal Zayn’s circlet. 

 

Zayn’s bottom lip drops open as he looks at it. His fingers reach to trace along the leaf detailing and his eyes find Liam’s again. “It’s gorgeous.”

 

Liam grins back at him, feeling warm under the praise. “Are you nervous?” 

 

“A bit,” Zayn admits. “But who wouldn’t be?”

 

Louis’ got the Liam’s crown wrapped in red, tucked in his arms. Louis unwraps it for him and Liam nods in approval. 

 

“That’s not the king’s crown,” Zayn observes with a frown. Liam nods back. 

 

“I had it redone. I always hated how gaudy it was.”

 

The new crown is a lot less dramatic, simple silver antlers crossed over and over around themselves. No jewels or extra flourishes like it used to be.

 

“This one suits you,” Zayn compliments with a smirk. “I can’t wait to see it on you.”

 

“Let’s get to it then,” Louis quips, offering a smirk of his own. He and Zayn had gotten on immediately, finding unending value in each other’s mischievous sides and nothing pleased Liam more than knowing his betrothed and his best friend connected that way. 

Liam takes Zayn’s hand then as Louis, with Eleanor by his side, and Ant and Danny head to the ceremonial balcony first. As soon as the huge glass doors open there’s a roar of applause and Liam feels Zayn’s hand tense. He gives it a comforting squeeze in return and he’s met with the sweet smell of cherry blossoms as the falling petals fly in with the breeze. 

The crowd grows louder and louder as soon as Liam and Zayn are in view. There’s colorful ribbons and a sea of flowers around the courtyard. 

 

Zayn nudges him, grinning as he points into the crowd. It takes Liam a moment to find them, but he beams too when he finds Harry and Niall standing around the food table. Liam had sent for them a week ago and when he was informed that they had arrived the night before, he’d told the page that they were to get baths and fresh clothes. Standing in between them is Bressie from the tavern, seemingly in a permanent state of undress. He’s got an arm around each of them, their sides pressed to his bare chest. 

 

Liam waves back at them, blushing only slightly as Harry blows him and Zayn kisses. 

 

Zayn’s family is standing all together, his mom weeping as she smiles. All three of his sisters are in beautiful dresses with flowers in their hair and the youngest one has a turkey leg in one hand and a teddy bear in the other. 

 

On the other side of the courtyard, towards the back wall are the four lady bandits in chains, two guards for each. They have stony looks on their faces Zayn waves to them too. Liam hasn’t decided what he’s going to do with them yet, but he thinks some hard labor might be in the cards.

When he looks over at Zayn, Zayn is already looking at him and there are blossoms nestled into his soft hair and on his shoulders. Louis taps Liam’s shoulder, giving him an expectant smile and glancing down to the crown in his hands. 

 

“Ready?” Liam asks. Zayn nods, his lips turned up into a smile. 

 

“Ready.”


End file.
